Zydrate Comes in a Little Glass Vial: A Repo continuum
by Zombiechii
Summary: Graverobber is enjoying a life of luxury when Shilo suddenly reapperas begging for his help in escaping the new face of GeneCo.
1. Chapter 1

Almost a month has passed after the deaths of Blind Mag, Nathan Wallace, and the head of GeneCo - Rotti Largo - at the Genetic Opera. The world had little time to mourn, as Amber Sweet took over GeneCo and the sons of Rotti - Pavi and Luigi - took hold of the power left by their father's downfall. GeneCo grew all the more ravenous, demanding payments impossibly fast. Miss Sweet grew more power-hungry by the day and thirsting for money to supply her Zydrate addiction.

The daughter of Nathan Wallace disappeared after her father's death. Nobody's really sure what happened to her. Perhaps she died. I can't say for sure. I almost miss the kid. Too bad, I suppose.

And who am I?

I go by Graverobber. That's what I do, after all. Rob graves, I mean. Pretty self explanatory. I collect Zydrate from the countless corpses in every cemetery, selling it to Addicts like Amber for a fine price. Sure, it's a dangerous profession. But Miss Sweet puts all her time these days into hiring more Repo Men and collecting payments, so these days GeneCo has less authorities going after graverobbers like myself. Plus, if she killed me, who on Earth would get that princess her Zydrate?

See, I'm in a win-win situation now. I'm getting a steady flow of money coming in from the Addicts. I'm the drug lord of the 21st Century. When all those surgery-craving junkies need a numb fix, they come to me.

Of course, every job comes with competition. Once in a while I do encounter another graverobber. But none will ever have power like I do. None of them know how to sneak in every single cemetery in the city as well as I can. Most of those fools get caught. But not me.

I sit now in an alley decorated with tattered _ZYDRATE ADDICTS SUPPORT GROUP_ flyers (support for feeding the addiction, I suppose), scrubbing a sticky combination of dirt and blood off my boots. I may be a criminal, but that doesn't mean I can't be somewhat tidy. It's nearly midnight, meaning the Addicts will begin to show up soon. I've got a case full of Zydrate and a wonderful new Zydrate gun resting at my side. The blue glow is sickly and beautiful, and I swear it attracts the Addicts like moths to a flame.

Footsteps. Three of my regulars round the corner, waltzing up to me. Two women and a young man. Each of them still has scars from numerous surgeries and Zydrate shots visible on their skin. It's a somewhat ghastly sight, actually. But they always come back for more. More drugs, more surgeries, more scars.

I stand, a sly smile creeping across my face. All three of them reach for me, and I feel like a god amongst them. One of the women touches my face, sliding her hand down to my chest. "Do you have it?" she asks, her voice a sigh.

"Always," I reach to pick up the case and sit back down, cross-legged, propping it open for them to see. All three of them get wide eyes and grab at it, but I close the lid quickly, "Payment first."

Without hesitation, they fork over the cash. I dish out two tubes of the Z each, and put one into the Zydrate gun. "Who's first?" I ask with a grin.

"I am."

The voice comes not from any of the three but from none other than Amber Sweet, striding towards me in a shameless outfit (isn't she always dressed shamelessly? Not that I'm complaining, no sir.). Her eyes are locked on the Zydrate gun in my hand. Her henchmen stand at her side, emotionless. You'd think after all the trouble that girl's gotten into, one of them would show some concern eventually.

"Of course, Miss Sweet," I laugh deeply and she pushes the first three customers aside, who back off, clutching their Zydrate protectively. She wraps her leg around my waist, pushing me against the brick wall. Like any average Addict, her eyes are no less than freaking insane. But you can't let insanity deter you in this day and age. Everyone's off their damn rocker.

I hold the gun up to the spot right in the middle of her forehead and she closes her eyes. My finger pulls back the trigger and there's a loud ZAP! sound. Amber collapses backwards as the effects kick in instantly. Her men catch her and she clutches their arms to steady herself, leveling those crazy eyes of hers at me. "Sometimes I wonder why I need you at all," she laughs,

"You need me," I say casually, stepping towards her and gripping her chin with my hand, "I am the cure for all your pain." I smile and release her, turning away. A few more customers approach, demanding my attention.

They pay, and I give the shots. That's how it's always been, and always will be.

Well, not always. I didn't always used to be Graverobber. But that story is for another time.

After I've dealt out all the Zydrate I've got for the night, the Addicts slowly drift away, to return another night when they're aching to be numb.

Once the night's work is over, It's about time for me to head home. Yeah, I've got somewhere to call home now. I used to crash in dumpsters or, on lucky nights, Addicts' couches. But when more money started rolling in, I said to myself, Graverobber, you're sitting on piles of cash, it's about time you found yourself a decent little place to hide it all.

So where did I go? The first place I could think of - The old Wallace residence. With Nathan dead and Shilo having vanished, I couldn't let it just go to waste, could I? Of course not! I settled right in and I've been there this entire past month. I go there now, carrying my now-empty case and the Zydrate gun. Through the gate, in the front door, up the stairs, into my room. I presume it used to be Nathan's room once. But now I call it my own. I've rearranged as I saw fit, and this is where I keep all my materials for extracting and storing Zydrate.

I put the case with the rest in the corner and put the gun in it's glass display with my various others, all purchases, of course, directly off the black market. Then, I take care to lock the door (being a drug lord, you can't be sure who's going to try to kill you in your sleep.) and take off my leather trench coat, throwing it over a bedpost. I painstakingly remove my boots and then flop down on the bed. My job is no less than exhausting, and I've surely earned a good rest.

However, not ten minutes after I've settled down, there's a loud crash from downstairs. My eyes fly open and I leap to my feet, snatching to pistol from my nightstand. _Yippee, I might get to kill someone again. It's sure been a while._ I grin and unlock the door, kicking it wide open. There's another crash and loud footsteps. Whoever the intruder is, they certainly have no skill in stealth whatsoever.

I creep down the hallway and peep my head around the corner of the staircase. There's a figure at the foot of the stairs, just standing there. I hop around the corner, hitting the light switch on the wall. "Don't move and I'll kill you!"

"Don't you mean 'don't move _or_ I'll kill you'?"

Well, I'll be damned. I lower the gun and chuckle, "Kid, is that you?"

"What are you doing here?" she snaps. The intruder is none other than Shilo Wallace. And, considering I'm in _her_ house, I suppose I'm the intruder here.

She looks like shit, bleeding from a gash on her forehead, and her skin is even more deathly pale than I remember. Her black dress is torn in several places, and she's missing a shoe. The pendant around her neck is bloodstained, and her eyes are full of something not even I can grasp.

"You have to help me," she pleads, falling to her knees suddenly. I rush down the stairs to her side, on the verge of a total freakout. Here I thought the girl was dead, and she shows up out of nowhere.

"Kid, what happened to you?"

"I need to hide," she tells me, her voice weak.

"From who?" I ask, my thoughts instantly wondering if she's running from a Repo Man. But last I knew, her only problem was the crap her freaky dad was poisoning her with.

"GeneCo..." she glances back towards the door with a frightened look, "Help me. Please."

I help her up the stairs and she goes right into her old bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You need to tell me what happened," I demand, standing in the doorway with my arms crossed.

She grabs the bloody pendant on her necklace, staring blankly ahead. "Blind Mag was my... godmother. And my dad was the Repo Man..."

"Yeah, so?"

"GeneCo owned both of them. So technically..." she swallows hard, "They own me."

"Ohh, and let me guess, they want to rope you into a contract like Mag and your father?"

"They want my organs," she whimpers, "Because I'm healthy. The 'blood disease' I had was just from my dad poisoning my meds, so when I stopped taking those, I got better. So Luigi came and... he said that because they own me, they can do whatever they want with me."

She pulls her legs up onto the bed and holds her knees to her chest. If it were anybody else, I'd kick them out and say _Life's a bitch and then you die. Deal with it._ But I couldn't let the kid go back out on the streets. Not with those fucking Largo siblings after her. I entered the room and jumped up onto the bed, squatting beside her. "You can stay here, kid."

"Oh, thank you so much," she cries, and I can tell she feared I would make her leave. Shilo throws her arms around my neck in an awkward hug and I freeze up, only accustomed to the greedy touch of the Addicts. She draws back, and a smile plays across her face. I feel pretty damn good about myself right about then, having just saved her life and all.

"Get some sleep, kid," I say, "And lock this door behind me. Here. Keep this in your reach," I hand her the pistol and she takes it like she's never seen one in her life. I leave the room and wait until I hear the click of the lock before I go back to my own bed for some well-earned sleep.

I awaken sometime before two in the afternoon. Light sneaks in despite the heavy curtains, forcing me into consciousness. I yawn and convince myself to roll out of bed, stretching out until my back produces a satisfying pop. My thoughts go right to Shilo, and my pessimism wonders if she even lived through the night. I unlock my door and tiptoe out into the hallway, my feet silent without the heavy boots to weigh me down. When I arrive at the door to her room, I'm happy to note it is still locked tight.

"Kid, open up," I knock lightly on the door and hear movement within. A few moments later, I hear the sound of the lock and Shilo cracks the door open.

"Look outside," she tells me, grabbing me by the arm to drag me into her room. She throws the curtains open and jabs a finger at something below. I lean around her to see whatever the hell it is she's freaking out about.

"Aw, shit, kid," I sigh. Sitting outside the gate to the Wallace residence is a sleek black limo with the GeneCo logo printed on it's side, along with Amber's current face (wasn't she supposedly _done_ changing her face?). The car idles, and for a second I actually think they might drive away. But before I can get my hopes up, the passenger door swings open and the first thing I see is a fishnet-clad leg with a wicked stiletto. _Amber._ She steps out of the car looking like she owns the whole place, and her two henchmen emerge from the other side of the car, positioning themselves obediently at her side.

As Amber barges through the gate, I grab the curtains, yanking them shut. Shilo is looking at me with eyes full of terror like an Addict going through withdrawals. "How did she find me?" she whimpers.

"Kid," I grumble, patting her head, "GeneCo has eyes everywhere. I'm not surprised she came after you."

"So, now what? You're not letting her take me, are you?" she peers around the curtains nervously. Amber is now nearly at the front door, bringing misfortune with her.

"Jeez, I'm a drug lord, but I'm not evil. Come on, kid. I found something your dad never showed you."

"What?" at mention of her father, a mixed expression of rage and sorrow is evident. But there's not exactly time for us to linger on that. Amber is ruthless. I've seen her kill over just a tube of Zydrate. That bitch is crazy. I yank Shilo out of her room and skip down the stairs, dragging her along behind me. There's a fireplace at the foot of the stairs, and I turn the pyramid-shaped ornament on the mantle before pulling the entire fireplace away from the wall - a secret door. Shilo gasps and I shove her into the remnants of Nathan's old Repo den. I push the entrance shut behind her just as Amber pounds on the door.

"Graverobber!" she coos, "Let me in!" on the last note, her voice twists into no less than a snarl and I smirk. Nobody can simply order me around like that. Not even the face of GeneCo.

"Yes?" I chime, opening the door and smiling ear-to-ear, knowing she can't hurt me. If she does anything to me, the princess is going to need a new dealer. And nobody gets Zydrate as good as mine.

"Where is she?" Amber shrieks, shoving her way into the house. One of her henchmen literally lifts me up, moves me out of his way, and sets me back down. I can't help but snicker.

"Who?" I ask, feigning innocence. I lean against the wall and watch, amused, as the princess of GeneCo charges upstairs.

"Where's the girl, Graverobber?" Amber goes in the direction of my room and storms back downstairs, not even looking in Shilo's own room.

"What girl?"

She gets up in my face, inches away. Her skin smells like chemicals and plastic. I guess that's to be expected when Amber Sweet is addicted to the knife. "Where. Is. Shilo. Wallace?" Her face is turning red with frustration, which only entertains me more. Calmly, I slip away from her.

"I thought the Wallace girl was dead by now." It's incredible how smoothly a lie can pass through my lips. Although I know Amber sees right through me - not only because she's most likely caught Shilo on camera - but because I'm trying so obviously hard not to laugh in her face.

"Tell me where she is!" Amber demands, pulling a knife out of the bosom of her dress (not sure how nothing got sliced in there. Or maybe she's so high on Zydrate she can't even feel it). Gripping the weapon firmly, she waves it in my face, trying to threaten me.

In response, I finally release an outburst of laughter, "I don't know," I insist, unfazed by the blade ready to chop my face clean off. I've faced many a bullet and blade in my time, and this one, wielded by such an unstable woman, isn't about to crack my shell. "Go home to your genetic castle, princess," I tell her, "You lose today."

Her eyes grow wide with fury at my laughter. "Fine!" she shouts, "But I'll have you know, that girl belongs to GeneCo. Nathan and Mag both had their contracts to uphold. As their legal daughter, Shilo Wallace now belongs to _me_," she slaps me in an attempt to make her point. But I hold my grin, watching as she snakes back out the door and drives away with her henchmen.

I let out a sigh of relief, knowing if Amber had come in just minutes earlier I might not have been able to hide Shilo.

Which brings me to a mighty fine predicament. Poor kid gets more and more traumatized by the day, I bet. Now I've locked her up in the very place her father did his murderous Repo work. I grab the fireplace and slide it back, ducking through the entrance. I expected to find Shilo curled up right by the door, but instead she's standing in the middle of the room, staring at the table of rusty surgical instruments next to the vertical table with straps, covered in bloodstains. Aw, crap.

"Hey, come on kid, Amber's gone for now," I say, grabbing her shoulders to turn her away from the ghastly sight. I can't even imagine what must be going on through her head at the moment.

"My father... the Repo Man..." her voice is wispy, like she's on the verge of tears. I usher her back upstairs into her room, and she sits down on the end of her bed, moving the plastic drapes aside. She looks up at the picture of her mother looming above on the wall and quickly turns away. "He killed all those people. He even killed my mother. Why didn't he just kill me, too?"


	2. Chapter 2

GRAVEROBBER

I leave Shilo alone for the rest of the day. She needs time to rest, and I'm not exactly the one to go to when comforting advice is needed, The only comfort I know how to give is the sweet shock of the Z. So I leave the pistol with Shilo, tell her to lock the door, and head off for the graveyard with a case under my arm and a Zydrate gun in the pocket of my trench coat.

My boots crunch gravel as I sneak around the enormous concrete building. With the ever-increasing death rate in our society, there stopped being enough time to give everyone a proper grave. Indoor cemeteries were built, where corpses got a tomb or coffin of their own only if the family paid a fancy price for it. Otherwise, the dead were stored in mass graves. Bodies were literally buried under bodies.

Which meant one thing for me - _jackpot_.

I couldn't enter right through the main gates. Well, I could. But I didn't want my brains splattered across the countless signs reading _GRAVEROBBERS WILL BE EXECUTED ON SIGHT._ So I picked my way around the back of the building and crept through a just-big-enough hole in the wall, lugging the case along with me.

"Ah, beautiful," I say, taking the view in. Corpses welcomed me like old friends, and I knew that the mounds of unburied bodies were teeming with Zydrate just waiting to be extracted. I step over a few tattered remains and kneel down beside one of the bodies, setting my case on the ground and opening it up. I pull an extraction needle from my other trench coat pocket and stab it up the shriveled nostril, filling it with the blue glow of fresh Zydrate. Once it's full, I switch out the tube in the needle, setting the full one into the case with care.

I repeat this many more times, winding my way through the maze of the dead until my case contains about twenty full tubes of Zydrate. A good harvest, for sure. Plenty to satisfy the Addicts for the night. I used to have nothing but a small leather pouch, but with money to spare to figured it was time to upgrade carrying capacity. By the time I leave the cemetery, It's evening already. In just a few hours, it'd be time to head out to my alley. But first I must return home and make sure Shilo is still safe. It's incredible the amount of paranoia that can arise from trying to keep someone alive.

I'm in luck - one of GeneCo's trucks cruises by as I step out on the street. I hop on and hitch a ride for a few blocks, jumping off when the truck passes by the Wallace house. The only light on inside comes from Shilo's window. _Way to be discreet, kid._

I unlock to door and stride inside, "Kid!" I call out, trying to hide the irritation in my voice.

"Graverobber?" I hear her voice, and she sticks her head around the corner of the stairs.

"You can't leave your light on like that. You might as well invite Amber right in," I scold.

"Sorry," she says, blushing in shame.

"You're seventeen. Use your head. GeneCo is ruthless."

"I know," she admits, "I wasn't thinking."

"From now on, try to keep the lights dimmer, at least," I feel like I'm pretending to be more mature than I really am, which is sort of a nice change. I've never really been responsible for anybody but myself before.

Shilo grips the pendant on her necklace, fiddling with it nervously, "Okay."

"And stay inside."

"I know."

"And don't let anybody inside but me."

"You're not my father," she snaps at me. She seems to recoil from herself at the word _father_.

"Yeah, I'm not a Repo," I retort without thinking. The kid's eyes go wide, and she whips around, running back upstairs and slamming her door.

"Whatever..." I grumble, trudging up the stairs at my own pace. I go into my room, setting the case down carefully where it will wait until a darker hour. The Zydrate gun stays comfortably in my pocket, while I return the extraction needle to its rightful place. I can hear Shilo's crappy television blasting an old Blind Mag performance at a horribly scratchy volume, but it still doesn't disguise the sound of her sobs. Maybe I should go talk to her. But what would I say? Like she said, I'm not her father. I'm Graverobber. A drug lord. A trickster. And I'm pretty good in the sack (if I do so say so myself). But I'm not nurturing worth a shit.

I lay down on the bed and pass out with blissful ease. I spend a lot of time sleeping. There's not much else to do, really. The time between collecting and selling the Z is usually filled with exhaustion and boredom, so I sleep it off.

I dream of blue beetles and memories of Blind Mag's death on television, how she smiled as she gouged her own eyes from her skull. How she'd rather face death than GeneCo.

SHILO

I wipe my tears away a while later, and carefully creep out of my room. I tiptoe to Graverobber's room and press my ear to the door. _Snoring_. Seriously? He fell asleep? Fine, I don't have to apologize until later.

Just as I'm ready to slip back into my room, I pause. There's a tug in my chest, urging me to go downstairs. And I know just where it will lead me. But now that I'm back here, back _home_, I know there's no better time than now.

I stop at the top of the stairs, feeling as if Luigi Largo himself is going to burst through the front door and kill me. When no murderous GeneCo members appear, I make my way downstairs and approach the door, making sure it's locked. It is. I then turn around slowly and face the trick fireplace. It's like I can hear the screaming of my father's victims. I cover my ears and take a deep breath, forcing the illusion out of my mind.

The secret room calls to me, daring me to explore the site of my father's legal assassinations. I run my fingertips over the stone and hesitate. What good would it do me to re-enter that dreadful place? Wasn't there a reason my father hid it from me my entire life?

But I knew, for whatever reason, I _had_ to enter. I couldn't let fear hold me back from anything anymore. Everyone I cared about was dead. GeneCo wanted to harvest me for my healthy organs. It was about time I took control, before I wound up dead along with Blind Mag and my dad.

I turned the pyramid on the mantle, producing a loud _clank. _I gripped the edge of the stone and shoved the fireplace aside with all my strength, surprised at it's weight. I guess my father never wanted me to discover it on accident merely leaning against the fireplace or something as ridiculous as that. He put a lot of thought into "protecting" me.

I feel like I've opened the gate to Hell, and maybe I have. I take a tentative step inside and shiver. A few more steps deeper within, and I am faced with a dusty reflection of myself. I blink, staring at the cracked mirror across from me, which hangs over a sink covered in rust-colored stains. _This is where he cleaned up to do the deed._ I turn right, and there is the tray of surgical tools. _This is what he used to rip still-beating hearts from their chests._ And there is the vertical table splattered with bloodstains. _This is where he killed them_. Suddenly, I feel trapped, suffocated in the truth. I knew my father had been a Repo Man, but I'd never seen true evidence of it until now. Would I have ever even known of this secret extension of the house if Graverobber hadn't known about it and hidden me in here?

Almost the very second I re-emerge from the room and slide the trick door closed, there's an urgent knock at the door. I cringe, frozen in terror. Who could it be? The sound was light, sharp, not like Amber's furious pounding. If it was Luigi or Pavi, they would've had the door busted off the frame already.

I peer out the window around a curtain. Our visitor is not Amber, and doesn't appear to be a GeneCo employee. But looks can be deceiving. Still, the blonde woman standing with an impatient look on the doorstep appears harmless, for the most part. She's wearing a white corset with black lace and a black skirt with torn tights. She looks fairly young, but with GeneCo's operations, someone can look twenty when they're over fifty. Maybe she's an Addict, coming to speak to Graverobber? I know he told me not to let anyone in, but my instincts tell me she's not out for my organs like everyone else seems to be.

She knocks again, and I realize I've been staring at her and doing nothing. I let the curtain fall back into place and step over to cautiously crack the door open a few inches.

"Hello?" I ask, not opening it far enough for her to enter.

"Shilo? Is your name Shilo?" she looks back over her shoulder nervously, "Can you let me inside? So we can speak?"

"Tell me who you are and state your business," I demand, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"My name is Eris Rigoti," she tells me, "I need to talk to you."

"The last strange woman who needed to talk to me ended up impaled and missing her eyes," I say, "What do you want?"

"I can't talk out here. Let me inside."

"Fine. But I have a gun," I blurt out, trying to seem threatening, even though the pistol Graverobber gave me remains upstairs and I don't even know how to handle it. Warily, I open the door all the way and let the woman inside. She steps gingerly around me, never taking her eyes off of mine. For a moment I wish Graverobber would wake up and run downstairs, demanding she leave. But I'm still not picking up a dangerous vibe from her. Only unease. Plenty of unease.

"Okay, why are you here?"

"Shilo, I knew your parents."

The gravity of her words hits me so hard my gut twists. Not just my father, but my mother, too? I suck in a deep breath, refusing to break down in front of her. "How?" I question.

She clicks toward the stairs in her high-heels, taking a seat on the second-to-last step. With a heavy sigh, she looks up at me. I stay rooted to the spot, waiting for her to speak.

"I worked for Nathan in his lab, when your mother was sick. He was trying to find a cure for her."

"I know," I say, my voice flat, "He was trying to save her, and he ended up killing her. I've heard the story. It was a mistake he could have avoided. Careless."

Eris shakes her head vigorously, causing her hair to fall out of place. "That's not entirely true."

"Wait, what?"

She sighs again, "It wasn't your father's fault Marni died. Technically... It was mine."

I take a step back, "What do you mean?"

"Shilo, you know your mother was very sick. And your father loved her very dearly. Do you really think he would be so careless as to mix up such important chemicals?"

"I don't know," I respond grimly. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really knew my father at all. He lied to me about being a Repo Man. He poisoned my medicine to keep me inside, "safe" from the world. I know very well now that nowhere is ever safe. I loved my father. But in the end, all he did was cage me like an animal.

"Marni's death was not Nathan's fault," she insists, "It was Rotti Largo who killed your mother."

I take a moment to let this sink in. I'd been told my whole life that my mother had died of the same blood disease that I had supposedly "inherited". Only at the Genetic Opera had I discovered the truth. It explained all the times I'd heard him talking to her pictures in the halls, guilty, apologizing countless times to her image. Begging for forgiveness.

Still, it certainly seems like something Rotti Largo would do. After all, he was the one who shot my father. He was the one who murdered him.

"How?" I finally ask. not sure what else I could say right now anyways.

Eris swallows hard, "When I worked for your father, I was also a loyal employee at GeneCo."

The word _loyal_ is what sticks in my head. People who are loyal to GeneCo, faithful to Rotti, are no less than dangerous. They carry out orders with unquestionable obedience. And I know the demons that swam inside Rotti's mind. I can only imagine what deeds he would have carried out through his employees.

"Shilo," she continues, "did you know your mother was once in love with Rotti Largo, before she met Nathan?"

"No," I say, and my voice comes out sounding like a protest. I can't believe that my mother ever loved someone like Rotti. Ever. But then again, a few months ago I never would have believed I had a godmother, or that my dad was no more than a doctor. Life was full of unpleasant surprises.

Eris nods. "Marni and Rotti dated for quite some time. It seemed like they had the perfect life. But then your mother met Nathan... and she left Rotti for him, got married, and soon she was pregnant. With a little baby girl. You."

I sit on the stair beside her, afraid of losing my stability. I'm trying to grasp what she's telling me; trying to wrap my mind around it all.

"Rotti wanted revenge. And he got the chance. When Marni got sick, and Nathan was trying so desperately hard to find a cure... and I was working for both of them."

"So what did you have to do with my mother's death?" I ask.

"Well..." she avoids my eyes now, "Rotti knew that your father was working on a cure. And he knew I was working with Nathan in his lab. So he ordered me to..." she trails off, but I'm not about to let the story stop there.

"Ordered you to do what?"

"To... switch out one of the substances in Nathan's cure for... poison."

For a moment, I just sit there. I don't know what to say. She's staring at me, her eyes begging me to forgive her. "I've wanted to tell you that for years, Shilo. But I never could, not with Rotti still alive. He'd have me killed if I spoiled his revenge."

I nod, like I understand. But really, my whole world has been ripped apart into even smaller pieces than before.


	3. Chapter 3

GRAVEROBBER

I wake up to the sound of voices downstairs. _Damnit, kid, I told you not to let anyone in._ I'd like to roll back over and pass out again, but I know I've got to go investigate whatever the hell is going on down there. For all I know, Shilo let one of the Largo kids right inside.

I convince myself to get out of bed and stomp noisily down the hallway. As I round the corner, I see Shilo sitting at the foot of the stairs with a woman I don't recognize. The tension is so thick I can practically feel it. To announce my presence, I clear my throat. "Kid, I told you not to let _anyone_ inside. This is a someone."

"I was just leaving," the woman says, standing up quickly and heading for the door. She leaves before I can demand and information, leaving me standing at the stop of the stairs and Shilo sitting at the bottom, looking sick.

"What happened? Who the hell was she?" I question, going down towards Shilo.

"That was Eris. She said... that she used to work for my dad and Rotti at the same time. Before my mother died. She told me... that Rotti had her sneak poison into the cure my dad made. My dad didn't kill my mother... Rotti Largo did."

"Uh, okay?"

"It's not okay!" she cries suddenly, standing up with her hands balled into fists, "All my life I thought my mom died because of the blood disease. Then I thought my father killed her. But now I know that Rotti did it... and there's nothing I can do about it. I feel so useless."

"Hey, don't be that way, kid," I say, trying to be supportive. I complete my descent down the stairs and catch her as she collapses. The girl sobs into my shoulder and all I can do is sit there awkwardly, trying my best to be comforting when the tears are really a little revolting. I'm not used to outbursts of human emotion, aside from addiction and fear.

"I wish I'd been the one to kill Rotti," she tells me with venomous words, "When he handed me that gun, I should have turned around and shot him dead."

I'll admit, hearing her say something like that took me a little by surprise. This was the girl who'd been raised away from the world, saying she wanted to kill someone. "He's dead, just be grateful for that," I say, "He can't hurt anyone else."

"But Amber can! And nothing is different. Nothing can ever bring my mother back. Or my father, or Blind Mag. They're all gone. Forever. And I can't do a thing about it. Why did that woman tell me all those things?"

I touch her shoulder lightly, "I think she wanted you to know your father wasn't all evil in the end. He loved you and Marni very much." The words sound fake and corny coming from my mouth, especially since I am so accustomed to speaking with people far more vicious and unstable than Shilo.

She runs up the stairs with a loud sob and, once again, slams the door behind her. Poor girl. GeneCo had products for storing and reliving memories, but not a single specialized organ could ever erase the horrors Shilo lived.

I decide it is wise to let her be alone, so I go upstairs to grab everything I need for dealing my supply of Zydrate. I will go wait in the alley for the time remaining until the Addicts start to arrive. With case in hand, I knock lightly on her door.

"I'm going out to deal, kid," I say loud enough that she has to hear me.

I hear no reply aside from suppressed sobs, so I make my way downstairs and out of the house, walking the darkening streets to my usual alley.

A while later, I am sitting against the brick wall by my case full of Zydrate for the umpteenth time, waiting. Everything in this life is about waiting. Always waiting for something, just trying to get through one day to the next alive.

The first few Addicts should be showing up at any time now. I predict it will be interesting once Amber arrives, angry as hell and thinking she has power over me. So what if she killed me? Not like I'd be missing much of this life.

Four young girls creep into the alley, emerging from the shadows. The oldest one of them can't possibly be any older than fifteen or so. It's disturbing how young they come these days. But my job is to deal, not to judge. They approach me, trying to appear brave. But the youngest girl, maybe about twelve years old, is practically shaking with fear. I lean forward, my leather coat squeaking with the movement. I get up in their faces and give them a clown-like grin, one hand never leaving the case of Z.

"You four girls really have the cash for this?" I question, wondering where the hell they could come up with the money to meet my price. Theft? Inheritance? However they got it, I require payment.

They all nod and hand me a wad of cash. In return, I give them each a shot from the Zydrate gun. Eventually, the girls all stumble away, looking dazed from the drug. It's sad to see Addicts so young, but there's nothing I can do about it. Better they come to me than another dealer who would take advantage of it.

More people, mostly women, begin to filter into the alley. They crowd around me, begging, pleading, needing the Zydrate. I generously deal out shots from the Zydrate gun as the tubes are sold, stashing the cash away in my pockets.

After about an hour, I'm surrounded by already-numbed Addicts. Amber still hasn't shown up yet, and I'm beginning to question if she's coming at all. Perhaps she's off in her genetic castle, pouting. Furious that I won't bend to her commands.

"Graverobber," I hear a soft moan from the darkness and the sound of high-heeled footsteps. _Speak of the devil,_ I think, leveling my gaze at Amber as she strides up to me. Her men linger behind her in the shadows, remaining on guard. Personally, if I had to be around the bitch all day, I'd kill her myself. She must pay them an insane amount of money. And probably in other ways, too. That must be why they protect her so loyally.

"Hello," I greet her with sick cheerfulness, "What can I help you with tonight, my dear?"

She stomps up to me in those heels of hers and slaps me, apparently hoping such an act will suddenly have an effect on me. It does not, of course. I laugh in her face and she glares at me. "I think that was a little uncalled for," I say, raising my eyebrows.

Her eyes burn with anger, "I know you're hiding the Wallace child. I _will_ find her."

"Miss Sweet," I say, retaining the cheery tone, "If I go home and find that girl missing or harmed, I will hunt your fine little ass down and cut that pretty little face of yours to bits while you beg for Zydrate to relieve the pain of the knife. I'll mold that perfect face into something so grotesque even surgery will not fix it." Her eyes grow wide and I grin, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close to whisper in her ear, "Do I make myself clear?"

She slaps me again, but I can see the terror in her eyes. She knows I'll keep to my promise as long as I'm alive. Which probably means she's going to try and off me, too, but I won't go down against this bitch without a good fight. "You really must stop slapping me," I say, pretending to be hurt, I touch my cheek gingerly, "You might hurt my feelings."

She lets out a frustrated shriek and shoves herself backwards, away from me. "Just give me the drug," she hisses.

"Fine." I load up the gun and accept the bundle of cash from her. She closes her eyes, and I give the shot right at the hollow of her throat. She gasps in pain for only a moment before the Zydrate kicks in, and pain becomes only a memory. She staggers over to her boys, and they escort her away without a word.

I chuckle and deal out a few more shots before I decide to pack up for the night. I tuck the remaining tubes of Zydrate into the case, place the gun in my pocket, and stand up slowly, dusting off my long coat. The Addicts reach out to me, and once again I feel like their god.

I don't catch any trucks this time, so I have to walk home. By the time I reach the old house, there's only about an hour till dawn. I tromp upstairs, tired as hell. It occurs to me to check on Shilo, but her door is (fortunately) still locked. I press my ear against the wood and hear light snoring. Good. She's asleep. I make my way into my room and put all my gear away, slipping off my heavy coat and boots. I practically throw myself down onto the mattress, and fall asleep in mere moments.

I awaken all too soon, this time to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door. I yawn and stretch, blinking a few times before standing up. I shuffle over to the door and open it. Before the thought crosses my mind that it could be anybody on the other side, I see Shilo standing there in a long black nightdress; I'm guessing it come from her closet somewhere. She looks worried, and there's dry makeup streaked down her face from crying all night.

"What is it, kid?" I ask her, my voice thick with sleep.

"That woman is here again," she says frantically, "Eris Rigoti."

"Again?"

"She's downstairs," Shilo tells me urgently. I have a feeling she woke me because she doesn't want to be alone down there with the woman who helped kill her mother. Which, I guess, is perfectly understandable.

With a longer-then-necessary sigh, I trudge down the staircase with Shilo trailing along, practically hiding behind my back. Sure enough, that same light-haired woman is once again perched upon the bottom step. When she hears us approaching, she jumps to her feet and spins around to face us, staring at Shilo with a frantic look in her eyes. The kid grips my sleeve in her fist and I turn around to look at her.

"I can make her leave if you want," I say quietly. But Shilo shakes her head, gathering up the courage to move out from behind me and face Eris herself.

"Why did you come back?" she asks, stern, demanding. "You already told me everything. What do you want now?"

"I want to help you," Eris says urgently, "I know GeneCo is after you."

I watch as Shilo pauses, chewing her lip, the expression in her eyes betraying fear and concern, "They want to... harvest my healthy organs."

The woman nods, "You're not the only one. The families of GeneCo employees are trapped by the contract, even after the employee dies. Rotti used to harvest healthy people to study how their organs remained functioning. So he could upgrade the organs GeneCo mass-produced."

"I don't see why nobody just waltzes up to the new princess and shoots her pretty little face off," I jump in angrily, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Then what? That wouldn't stop GeneCo. There's still Pavi and Luigi. Then, after them, a long line of countless successors who would inherit the company. GeneCo is impossible to take down."

"If it's so impossible, then how are you here to help me?" Shilo asked, her eyes wide.

"There is one way to escape the contract you were trapped in by your father," Eris tells her, suddenly becoming more serious. "You're only seventeen, correct?"

Shilo nods slowly.

"Well, then you're still a minor. GeneCo is trapping you in the contract because they 'owned' your father, who was your guardian. The moment Nathan died, the head of GeneCo technically became your new legal guardian. So, when you turn eighteen years of age... you're your own guardian."

"So... when I get to be eighteen..." I can see her pondering it, calculating whenever her birthday is. "Then I'll be free? They won't be able to take my organs anymore?"

Eris nodded frantically, "Yes!"

"But... my birthday isn't for another two weeks."

"So?" I say, "You've made it this long, kid. You can make it another mere fourteen days. I'll keep a better eye on you, keep Amber away. After that, they won't be able to touch you."

"Exactly," Eris agrees.

Shilo leans against the banister on the stairs for support, trying to take it all in, "Is that... all?"

"Yes. That's all I came here for. I had to give you that crucial information. It's the least I could do."

"Okay, now, I think it's about time you got going," I shift my eyes between the two of them, noting how overwhelmed Shilo appears to be. "We appreciate your assistance," I give Eris a curt nod and she takes the hint, backing away towards the door and slipping out within a matter of seconds. I go to the window, watching her leave. Once she's disappeared around the corner, I pull the curtains shut and lock the deadbolt behind her.

"You okay?" I ask, observing how relieved Shilo seems to be now that Eris has left us again.

She lifts her gaze to meet mine - empty, unblinking, afraid. She gives the slightest nod and sinks down to the step she is standing on. She looks like an abandoned rag doll, lifeless and uncared for.

"Those two weeks will go by quickly, no problem. You can make it. I'll make sure of it." I think I'm party trying to convince myself, too.

"How?" She asks, her voice cracking, "What if Amber decides to bring Pavi? Or Luigi? Can you fight them? What if they bring guns? What if they come when you're gone and find me? What if-"

"Hey, hey, enough with the pessimism. In a world this fucked up, you can't afford to be negative. Now come on. Get up."

She staggers to her feet, balancing with most of her weight against me. "I just... I don't understand. I don't see that point. I've hidden in _dumpsters_. Hidden under _bodies_ in the graveyards to hide from the GeneCo employees for this long. They almost got me a few times, and I always escaped... but... for what?" She grabs hold of the banister and pulls herself up the staircase, still leaning on me.

"Once you turn eighteen, you're free. That's what it's all for."

"Will I _really_ be free, though?" she asks, her voice cracking, "What if they all just come up with a new excuse to hunt me down? To kill me?" Her knees buckle and I hold her up, keeping her on her feet.

"Then you hide again. You run more. Find a new loophole in whatever rules they're playing by," I tell her as we reach the top of the staircase.

"But _why_?" she stumbles towards her room, taking her weight off of me. "What are we living for in this world? Why is anyone here anymore? How can anyone have goals? Ambitions? What's there to aim for in this society anymore? All the 'good' jobs are for GeneCo. If you work for them, they own you. You work until you die. Nobody's a writer, or an artist, or mathematician, not anymore. Everyone either works for GeneCo or spends their lives hoping GeneCo isn't working against _them_. What if my organs go bad? What if I need surgery?" She all but falls through the doorway to her room. "They'll own me then, just like everyone else."

I stop, leaning against the doorframe. Answerless. I guess she's got a point. Sad to know that even the youth of today sees how corrupt the whole damn world's become. I really don't know how to respond to her. After all, my goal for every day is to collect enough Zydrate to sell every night. Get loads of cash. And for what? I hardly have anything to spend it on aside from black-market Zydrate guns and fancy cases. When I'm not busy being the friendly neighborhood drug dealer, I'm usually sleeping. What am I supposed to tell her?

"I'm sorry, kid," is all I finally manage to say.


	4. Chapter 4

SHILO

Graverobber walks away from my room, his boots clomping on the floor, leaving me alone. I flop backwards down onto my mattress with a loud sigh, trying not to cry anymore. Two weeks. Could I make it that long? What else would I do with my life, after those two weeks passed? The gravity of my own words was beginning to sink in now - _What are we living for in this world?_

In an attempt to distract myself and relax, I switch on the TV, staring blankly at the grainy screen.

_The people at GeneCo would like to remind you that the anniversary of Blind Mag's death will be coming up soon. To celebrate our dearly departed employee, we're having a huge sale on all optic products previously advertised by Blind Mag herself - _

I groan and click the TV back off, flipping over to bury my face in my pillow. The night Blind Mag died had also been the night Rotti Largo died, and the night my father died, looking up at me. I'd left the opera and thought I was free at last, until Amber and her brothers had come chasing after me for my organs.

_I would rather be blind..._

I push the memory out of my head, jumping up to go peer out my window. I pull the curtains aside carefully, looking down at the front gate to make sure nobody's there. I keep expecting to look down and see Amber walking up to the front door again. I know she's planning something, and I can only hope that Graverobber and the gun he gave me can actually keep me safe.

The darkness outside is fading into morning, but still thick, like I could wrap it around myself and suffocate in the night. In the distance, I can hear sirens wailing down the street, and billboards all around the city are flashing the faces of Amber, Luigi, and Pavi. I wish I could step outside, breathe in the cool air, but I dare not in fear of being shot dead on the spot, or something equally horrible.

I yawn, and finally decide I should get some real sleep. Graverobber has probably gone back to bed, and Eris is gone, so now I should try to get some rest while I can. I crawl back into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around me, and close my eyes, wishing for a peaceful sleep.

I open my eyes to see pale sunlight leaking in around my curtains. Looks like I lived through another night without Amber running in and killing me in my sleep. I lay there for a minute, convincing myself to wake up and be alert. Slowly, I sit up and stretch, rubbing my tired eyes. Eris showed up just an hour or so before dawn earlier, and it feels weird to wake up again later the same day.

I stumble over to my closet and open it to see all my old clothes are still there. Seeing them all gathered there makes me feel a slight sense of stability, knowing they stayed here undisturbed for this long. I pull on a lacy black dress that falls down to my knees, white tights, and my usual scuffed black shoes. I find one of my old hairbrushes and run it through my hair, ashamed to realize how tangled it's gotten. When you're running for your life, you don't really have much time to stop and consider hygiene.

The hallway is empty and quiet as I exit my room, peering around cautiously. "Graverobber?" I call out in the direction of his room. I hear a sort of soft thud, and he pokes his head of out his room.

"Hey, kid. Do y'know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Maybe around eight."

"_In the morning?_" He groans. "Kid, I was out late last night. I need more sleep."

"I'm hungry," I admit, and my stomach grumbles almost right on cue.

He sighs, shaking his head and mumbling something. "There should be some food in the kitchen."

"Oh. Well, do you want anything?" I ask, realizing I haven't seen him eat since I got here.

"Nah, I ate last night. Holds me over good enough. Don't want to waste food." Before I can say anything else, he pulls his head back into the room and shuts the door.

I walk downstairs, watching the front door closely, like someone might come charging through it unexpectedly. The kitchen is small, and I see it's gathered some dust since I left home last. A few rotten fruits sit half-eaten on the counter, and I shove them into the trash can, wrinkling my nose. The refrigerator, fortunately, is still running. I open it and see its limited contents - a few fruits, juice, and milk - before I give up on that and turn to the cupboards.

The cupboard holds the jackpot - it's crammed full of canned foods. I grab a can of peaches and open it, enjoying the taste as each bite touches my tongue. It's been so long since I've been able to eat a good meal. I had to move around a lot to hide from GeneCo, and that usually led to me eating scraps and questionable food.

There is a frantic knock at the front door, startling me, and I nearly drop the peaches. I set them down slowly and creep back towards the front door. Who could it be? Eris again?

I peek out the curtains to see who it is, and, sure enough, Eris is standing on the doorstep. She looks nervous, and keeps checking over her shoulder. I hurry to open the door for her, and she rushes inside, closing it quickly behind her.

"What is it now?" I ask, crossing my arms. I don't mean to be rude, but it seemed like this woman was barging her way into my life, and I never asked for that.

"She's coming. Amber."

"What?" I gasp, looking back towards the door.

"They're angry, Shilo. She's bringing Pavi and Luigi with her. They want to find you, and they know you're here."

I rush to lock the door, although I know that won't keep them from coming in. My worst fear has hit - All three of the GeneCo siblings are after me at once now. Could I escape from them? Was there any chance?

"Graverobber!" I shout, dashing upstairs and pounding on his door.

"_What now?_" He asks, grouchy. He swings the door open with a frown on his face.

"Amber's coming. with her brothers," I tell him, feeling like I'm on the verge of a panic attack right now. "Eris is here. Again. She came to warm me."

He straightens up, instantly awake and alert. "Hide behind the fireplace with Eris. There's an exit I found in the back, if you twist the scalpel hanging on the corkboard, the corkboard opens to a tunnel. It'll take you outside. Run to the cemetery down the street and hide. I'll meet up with you there. Don't go anywhere else until I get there. Okay?"

"Okay," I nod, trembling. I run back downstairs.

"I can hear the car!" Eris cries, her face an expression of horror.

"Follow me!" I urge, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the fireplace. I open the secret door and we scramble inside. She looks a bit confused as we enter.

"What is this place?" She asks me, noticing the surgical instruments and bloodstains everywhere.

"Well, you may have known this... But my father was a Repo Man," I quickly explain, "This was where he worked. Now come on, Graverobber said there's another hidden door here..."

I can hear shouting outside as we move to the back of the room. I see the corkboard, but it's covered in all sorts of tools that I don't recognize. "He said to twist the scalpel..." I say, starting to turn anything that looks vaguely like one.

"Here it is," Eris says, reaching past me and twisting it. There's a loud _click_, and the corkboard slides to the side to reveal a dark tunnel in front of us.

"Where are we going?" Eris asks me as I climb into the tunnel, crawling along on my hands and knees because it's too small for us to stand up straight.

"He said this tunnel leads outside, and that we should run and meet him in the cemetery."

She winces at the word cemetery, and I feel bad that she got dragged into this. "You could run off on your own," I offer, "They're not looking for you. It's me they want."

"I feel responsible. I want to keep you safe," she insists. I'm about to say I took care of myself just fine without anybody, but I really _wasn't_ fine, so I hold my tongue.

"I see the end," I say enthusiastically as we keep crawling. There's faint light, and soon we pull ourselves out of the cramped tunnel and into the sunlight. It looks like we've come up a few yards from the house. I turn around to see that Amber's limo is parked out front, and hope with all my might that Graverobber is okay back there.

"Come on, the cemetery is this way," I take off at a run, and Eris follows me closely.

GRAVEROBBER

I hear the fireplace slide shut as I come downstairs. There's a loud pounding on the front door, followed by furious shouting.

"_Open the door, Graverobber!"_ Amber shrieks. I grab the handle and swing it open, giving her a bored look.

"Some of us are sleeping," I grumble at her, running a hand through my thick hair.

She shoves me out of the way and enters the house, followed by Luigi, Pavi, and her two henchmen. "Sure, sure, come in," I say sarcastically.

"I've come for that girl! She's _mine_! I'm not leaving without her this time. Where is she? Where are you hiding her?"

"She's not here," I say, honestly. "She left. I told her to go. Didn't want her sticking around here."

"Listen, you little pansy," Luigi stomps up to me and pulls a knife out, waving it in my face. It scares me a hell of a lot more than when Amber did it, but I try not to let that show. "You tell us where Shilo Wallace is, or I'll cut the information out of you."

"Don't think we've forgotten that liver of yours," Pavi coos, admiring himself in a handheld mirror instead of looking at me. My stomach drops. A few years ago, I'd had to buy a new kidney through GeneCo to save my life.

"I paid that off a long time ago," I say defensively, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just because you paid if off doesn't mean it doesn't still belong to us," Luigi retorts.

"Tell me where the girl is," Amber purrs, waltzing up to me and holding my chin in her hand, "Or that kidney's coming back with us."

I swallow hard, "Look, I really don't know."

"Graverobber..." She whispers in my ear, "_Tell me where she is."_

I shove her off of me, taking a step back, "I'm sorry, I honestly don't know. You will have to look elsewhere. You won't find her here."

"That's it, you blew your chance!" Luigi shouts, lunging for me with the knife. I manage to leap out of the way for the most part, but the blade grazes my side. I hold back a cry of pain and dodge another attack, heading upstairs. I know Shilo didn't take the gun with her, so I'm hoping it's in her room. Luigi and the others charge after me, yelling and screaming for my death.

"I'll kill ya! You're dead, Graverobber! I'm leaving here with a kidney on the end of this knife!"

"Come on, Graverobber! Work with me here!"

"Ah, you better run, Graverobber, run, run..."

I reach the door to Shilo's room and yank it open as fast as I can manage, slamming it behind me for a temporary barrier. I'm in luck - the pistol is sitting on her nightstand. I snatch it up and unlock the safety, aiming towards the door and backing away towards the window.

The door flies open and the lot of them swarm in, heading right towards me. "I'll shoot you all!" I threaten, aiming the gun. They pause for a moment, and I take the opportunity to climb out onto the small balcony behind me. Luigi charges again and I shoot, hitting his leg. He drops to the ground, wailing, and I make my escape. There's a cluster of bushes under the balcony, and I hope it's enough to soften a fall from the second story. With no time to debate it, I swing over the edge of the balcony and go crashing down into the hedge.

It knocks the wind out of me, and I scrape up my arm pretty bad, but luckily I'm fine otherwise. I take off, clutching the cut in my side, and head for the cemetery as fast as I can.

I'm starting to feel woozy when the cemetery is finally in sight. I hope Shilo and Eris had enough sense to go through a back entrance as I sneak in, trying to stop the bleeding in my side. I see Shilo crouched behind a crypt, and call out "Hey, Kid!" before I collapse.

SHILO

"Look, that's him. Oh my gosh, he's bleeding!" I run over to where Graverobber falls and Eris helps me pull him back behind the crypt where we were hiding.

"I worked as a nurse, I can help him," she says, taking on a very businesslike tone. She removes his big coat and pulls up his shirt to reveal a gash in his side.

"Looks like a knife wound," she tells me. "Do you have something I can wrap around him to stop the bleeding?"

"Um... oh, my tights!" I slip off my shoes and pull my tights off, handing them to her.

"Perfect," she says, starting to wrap his waist with them. "Okay, now, I need you to hold your hands over the wound and apply pressure." She ties off the makeshift bandage, and I move over to do as she says.

"Will he be alright?" I ask, looking at his pale face.

"He should recover quickly, it's not deep and it didn't even hit any of his organs. I think he just overworked himself running here in pain." She moves up and puts her ear in front of his mouth, "He's breathing, and," She puts two fingers to his neck, "His pulse isn't too bad. If we can stop the bleeding he'll be fine. Are you applying pressure?"

"Yes," I tell her, looking down at the red stain blossoming under my hands, "How long does this usually take?" I'm worried about him. If he dies because of me, I'll never be able to forgive myself.

"Just keep applying pressure directly to the wound."

"Okay..."

I don't know how long it is that we sit there, me with my hands over the wound, Eris continuously checking his vital signs. Suddenly, he gasps and sits up, panting. "What..."

"You passed out," Eris tells him, "How do you feel?"

"It hurts like a bitch," He says, examining the bandage she'd fashioned out of my pantyhose. "They were threatening to take back the kidney I bought. They were going to kill me. Luigi got me with his knife, but I shot him in the leg." He pulls the gun out of his jacket pocket, "I can't believe you didn't take this with you, but I'm glad you forgot it," he tells me, chuckling half-heartedly.

"What do we do now?" I ask him, worried that Amber and the others will find us here at any moment.

"We have to get out of here. I know a place we can stay," He says, getting painstakingly to his feet.

"Where?"

"An old friend," he says, and I think I see a hint of a smile on his face.

"Can we trust them?" Eris asks suspiciously.

"We have no other choice, really," He says, starting to walk through the cemetery. Eris and I follow him, and with how nimbly he moves, you wouldn't think he was recovering from a recent knife wound.

"This way," he urges, leading us out another hidden entrance to the graveyard. We sneak among the shadows in back alleys, and finally he stops right in front of what looks like a battered cellar door in the ground. I nearly run into him with how suddenly he stops.

"This is it," he announces.

"Someone... lives here?" I ask, examining the hatch in front of us.

"Yeah. Would never guess, right? That's the point. We need to stay hidden." He leans down and knocks on the wooden door.

"Who's there?" A voice calls out, sounding slightly irritated.

"It's me, you fool, who else knows you live here?" Graverobber responds.'

There is a sound like multiple locks being undone, and the hatch in the ground slowly opens with a loud _creak_.

"Well, well, what have we here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took so long, but here's chapter five! Reviews always welcome, I love getting everyone's opinions. Thanks to all of my viewers from so many different countries for reading! I never knew Repo was so popular outside the United States. Enjoy! **

I try to see whoever it is that the voice belongs to, but their face is concealed by shadows. I creep forward, and so does Eris.

"Shut up and let us in," Graverobber hisses, his gaze darting around in search of danger.

"Alright, alright, come on," The hatch opens all the way and Graverobber gestures towards it, "Ladies first," he says to us, though his voice is lacking the usual sarcastic cheerfulness that might accompany such a comment. I step forward, and whoever it was that lives here has vanished from sight. Graverobber helps me down the questionable ladder into the darkness. Eris follow behind me, and then Graverobber jumps down, pulling the hatch shut behind him.

For a moment, we're plunged into pure darkness, and I blink my eyes a few times, straining to see anything. Then suddenly, there is the recognizable sound of a match being lit, and then a small lantern is lit in front of us, followed by several others and a few large candles.

"Pardon the darkness, so sorry, snuffed the lights when I heard people approaching. Oh good lord, don't just leave the door unlocked!" Her voice has some sort of accent to it, like British, but not quite. The flickering light illuminates the room we're in, which is cramped, and I'm relieved to see doorways leading to other rooms.

I can now see our new host. She is a small woman who appears to be around Graverobber's age. clad in a dusty, oversized blue hoodie, black shorts, and tattered black lace tights. Numerous tattoos are visible all over her legs. Her hair is extremely long and falls in multicolor waves down past her waist as she swoops towards the door and hastily clicks every lock shut.

"Now," she says, turning around to face us and placing her hands on her hips. The mixed perfume of the candles around us meets my nose and elicits a cough. "Oh my god, you're hurt!" she exclaims, seeing the bandaged wound. "Tell me what's going on, Graverobber." She gets up in his face, eyebrows raised in concern.

"You'd think an old friend would know his real name," I whisper to Eris from the corner of my mouth. She chuckled half-heartedly in response.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insists, "We need to hide out for a bit," He tells her, "We've got nowhere else to go."

"Alright, whatever, that doesn't really answer my question, now does it?" Her voice is so light and airy I can't tell if she's being sarcastic about it or not.

"Okay, fine, allow me to introduce you all," Graverobber says, motioning towards Eris and I. I freeze, caught off guard. "This," he says towards me, "Is Shilo Wallace."

"_The_ Shilo Wallace?" She examines me carefully, like I'm some sort of animal species she never thought she'd get to see in life. Apparently she's heard of me before.

"Yes. And this woman," he points to Eris now, "Is Eris Rigoti, former employee of GeneCo."

"Um," Eris shifts uncomfortably, "Not exactly. Let's say... _unwilling_ employee of GeneCo."

Graverobber spins on her, his trench coat whipping around him, "_What?!"_

"I... I'm technically still employed with them. How do you think I've been getting all this information?" She swallows nervously. "I got a spine replacement years ago and I couldn't pay so I got roped into a permanent employment contract."

Graverobber grumbles but backs off, a frown on his face. "Whatever. Anyways, Shilo has to hide from GeneCo until she turns eighteen. She's their property by default of her father and godmother's contracts. They're trying to harvest her healthy organs."

"_Well_ that is a bit of a pickle. Just how far away _is_ your birthday?" she asks me, cocking her head to the side.

"Two weeks," I mumble.

"Oh, that's no worry. You can most assuredly stay here, dear."

"Thanks..."

"Shilo, Eris," Graverobber speaks to us now, "This is my friend, Tattoo."

"Interesting name..." Eris comments, "Then again, we do have _Graverobber_ here. Names himself after his occupation... I'm sorry, go on..." she trails off with a shrug.

Tattoo laughs, "It's an acquired name. Sometimes the names we give ourselves represent us better than the ones given to us at birth."

"So, um, how do you know Graverobber?" I ask curiously, lowering myself into a chair nearby. Eris follows suit, crossing her legs and propping an elbow up on the armrest.

The two of them share a glance, and a nostalgic smile plays across each of their faces.

GRAVEROBBER

Tattoo grins at me. "Ah, where to begin..." she sighs.

I lean against the wall, letting the memories float up to the surface of my mind. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.

"I knew Graverobber back when we were both still just teenagers," she says. "We met in a cemetery one night, quite on accident. You see," she says, "I'm a graverobber, too. Or, well, I used to be. I don't deal even half as often as I used to."

I can see Shilo's eyes bug out, like maybe she thought I was the only one out there. From my first encounter with her, I can say she knows how it feels to run into a graverobber in the middle of a cemetery.

"Anyways," Tattoo continues, "I was loading up my Zydrate stash, and this guy," she nudges me, "Comes running through the graves like a bat out of Hell and bumps into me. Said he was running from people he stole food from; they were still chasing him even though he dropped the food a ways back. So I put all my gear away and took him back to where I was living then, and fed the poor guy. Asked him if he had anywhere to go, and turns out he didn't. So I let him stay with me, and trained him to be a graverobber."

"So you knew Graverobber... _before_ he was a graverobber at all!" Shilo breathes, seeming amazed.

Ah, yes, I can remember that night I met Tattoo quite clearly. I was starving half to death, homeless, and orphaned. I had no way to get food and no way to make money. Tattoo changed all that, showed me how to gather Zydrate and where I could sell it. I'd thrown my crappy past behind me and embraced my new life. We'd become pretty good friends over the few years she and I lived together, prowling the streets for good places to deal. Eventually, we'd both moved our separate ways to be closer to new cemeteries.

"I suppose you three must be exhausted," Tattoo says abruptly, noticing the fatigued air about us. "Come on, you two can share the spare room. I'll get out the air mattresses for you." She bustles about the dark little house, preparing a bedroom for Shilo and Eris. I make my way towards the ugly little couch and sit down, assuming I'll be sleeping here. Eventually, the spare bedroom is prepared, and Shilo and Eris go off to bed with bags under their eyes.

Tattoo walks up to me slowly, hands me a tattered quilt, and then flops down on the couch at my side. "So," she says plainly.

"So..." I sigh, "I'm sorry for this. We have nowhere else to go."

"Don't be sorry," she tells me, smiling, "I'm happy to help, and it's good to see you. Different circumstances may have been nice, but it's good to see you alive and well. I worry about you sometimes. You always were reckless out there."

"Don't worry, I'm fine," I assure her.

"Says the man with a huge bloody bandage." she remarks with an eye roll, "What happened, anyways?"

"Oh, ya know, nothing, really. Was just nearly stabbed to death by Luigi Largo."

"Grave_robber_!" she gasps, "Are you kidding me?!"

"All three of the GeneCo siblings were at the house. They were looking for Shilo, I had to hold them off somehow. Don't worry, I shot Luigi in the leg."

"That's more like it," she laughs, leaning back on the couch. "Goodness, I can't believe what's become of this world. Guns and knives and organ thieves," she shakes her head sadly.

"It's always been this way," I tell her, "It's just on the surface now."

"I suppose you're right." She sits back up. "Well, you must be tired, too. I'll let you get some rest." She hops to her feet, bending down to plant a friendly kiss on my forehead. "Sleep well. You need to heal."

"I'll try," I say grimly. She walks around and snuffs out all but one candle, and I pull the frayed quilt around me, laying down on the couch and closing me eyes.

Several days pass. I'm starting to feel anxious being here without all of my Zydrate equipment, but there's no way I could go back and get it without being caught or killed. Amber and her brothers probably have that house under watch constantly now. At least I still have my gun with me. It lends a slight sense of safety to the whole situation.

There's not much to do around Tattoo's little underground house except talk. It can get boring pretty fast, but Tattoo has told me of her own misadventures with GeneCo and the other things she's encountered since we last saw each other. Apparently, she got trapped in the graveyard one night when it started to rain and they sealed the place up against the weather. She'd had to hide under a pile of bodies all night so she wouldn't get caught when they opened it back up again in the morning.

I tell her about my nightly dealing, and how I've been living in the Wallace house. I tell her about Shilo showing up, and how Amber kept threatening me. I tell her about Luigi's look of pain and shock when I shot him in the leg, and how I jumped out of a second-story window with a stab wound.

Tattoo goes out a few times to get food and water. Where it comes from, I don't bother to ask. She brings back enough for all four of us, and we eat well every day. Eris keeps fussing over my wound, even though I keep telling her it's not that bad. She keeps changing the bandage and washing it. It still hurts like a bitch, but it's healing pretty quickly because it's not a very deep cut.

One day, while we're gathered around eating stale ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch (No clue where she got them but they're edible so I'm not complaining), Shilo pipes up:

"My birthday is in nine days."

"See? You can totally make it that long, kid," I say around a mouthful of food.

"My _birthday_..." she says, a new gravity in her voice, "I'm turning eighteen... and I'm not even excited for it. I don't get a cake, or gifts, or a party... All I'm looking forward to is being free from GeneCo."

"Funny how the world works now, isn't it?" I half-frown.

"What are you planning to do once you're free?" Tattoo inquires.

"I don't know..." Shilo takes a small bite of her sandwich, "I'm really just thinking day-to-day here. Survival."

"Can't blame you for that," Eris comments. I notice she hasn't touched her food. I feel bad for her, really, getting sucked into all of this. But it was her choice to basically betray GeneCo and go out of her way to help Shilo. If Amber or anyone else from GeneCo caught her now, that spine of hers would be ripped out of her back with acute precision by a Repo Man. She'd betrayed them by helping Shilo, and broken her contract with the company for sure.

"Nine days..." Shilo repeats in a barely-audible whisper. She stares down at her food and finishes eating without saying another word. She disappears in the shadows of the makeshift guest bedroom, shoulders hunched.

Eris shoves her plate forward, "I'm sorry, Tattoo, I know it must have been troublesome for you to get this food, but I'm really not hungry right now."

"Oh, don't worry. That's what the fridge is for, now isn't it? Go ahead and stick it in there."

Eris nods and shoves her plate onto a shelf in the fridge, then closes the door somewhat forcefully. "I want to go outside," she says suddenly.

"Why?" I ask, rather than protesting.

"I don't like not knowing what's going on out there. We don't even know for sure if they're still after us. Well... of course they are. But we don't know where they're looking, or how thorough they're being. We don't know how safe we are here. I want to go check."

"No offense, dear, but I think I'm far more qualified for that than you are," Tattoo replies. "I know the area. I know where to hide, which alleys to take and which roads to avoid. I bring us food just fine, right? Maybe next food run I can go do some snooping."

"I want to go with you," Eris tells her.

"Why? Anyone from GeneCo could recognize you. None of them know who I am."

"I want to help Shilo any way I can. I feel responsible for her misery."

Tattoo sighs, unwilling to argue any further. "Alright, alright. I'll take you along next food run and we can sneak around, see what information we can pick up."

"Thank you."

I roll my eyes. But then again, I understand her point. I don't have to stay here. I could go off on my own, hide wherever I want, gather up all of my equipment and set up business elsewhere. But here I am, sticking with the kid, trying my hardest to help out.

What a tragic group we are, all fleeing GeneCo for one reason or another. Shilo at risk of her organs being ripped out of her body, Eris at risk of her spine being taken back due to her betrayal to the company, and me trying to lay low so nobody carved out one of my kidneys until Amber came crawling back to apologize and beg for more Zydrate. Tattoo is the safest one of us here, and that's only because most people didn't even know she exists.

I polish off my sandwich and go to sit on the couch, pulling the gun out of my pocket and checking for the hundredth time to make sure it's loaded. Paranoia creeps softly in, fear biting at our throats, and we all occupy ourselves with nonsensical things to avoid speaking for a while. Eris goes off to nap, complaining of a severe headache. Tattoo cracks open a book, and I sit on the couch, seeing how quickly I can disassemble and re-assemble the pistol.

"I'm making a food run." Tattoo announces the next morning, emerging from her bedroom and lighting the candles for the day. She's wearing that big blue hoodie, as usual, and shorts that look like they're made of several scraps of colored fabric. I prop myself up on the couch, letting loose a huge yawn and rubbing my eyes.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" Eris says urgently, hopping out of the other room as she tries to quickly pull her shoes on.

"Do you have... anything other than high heels?" Tattoo asks, cringing. She has knee-high boots laced onto her own feet.

"Of course not, I didn't exactly have time to pack for this little trip," Eris snaps matter-of-factly.

"Let me get you some shoes you can actually run in..." Tattoo brings her a scuffed-up pair of combat boots, but they're far too small. "I guess the heels will have to do. Just be careful, alright? Some of this business requires balance and speed. Climbing walls and dodging cars."

"It'll be fine," Eris insists.

Shilo comes shuffling out of the other room, looking exhausted. "What's going on?"

"We're going to go get food and see if we learn anything useful about the situation at hand," Tattoo tells her. I know she's worried, but an excited smile still spreads across her face. "Now, come along," she tells Eris, "We need to go before it gets too light outside."

Tattoo undoes the many locks on the hatch, and the two of them climb up the ladder. "Secure the locks behind us!" Tattoo calls back down before the hatch slams shut. I get up off the couch and go to do as she says, fastening each lock with a satisfying _click_.

"I don't know about you," I turn back towards Shilo, approaching the couch again, "But I'm going back to sleep. If they get back, remember the key is on the shelf by the ladder."

Not waiting for her reply, I curl up on the couch and fall back asleep in moments.

"_Graverobber! Wake up!"_ Shilo's shrill voice yanks me back into consciousness. My eyes fly open and I instinctively reach for the gun in my coat pocket.

"What is it? What happened?" I scan the room around me hastily. Shilo is standing over me with tear-streaked cheeks, and Tattoo is over by the hatch, fastening all of the locks faster than I thought possible.

"It's Eris..." Shilo sobs, slumping forward and burying her face in my quilt.

"What? Where is she?"

Tattoo walks over slowly, like her boots are made out of lead. Her expression is grim. "I barely got away... but... the Repo Man caught Eris," She informs me quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, here's Chapter Six! This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, I hope you all like it as well. Reviews always welcome. Enjoy!**

SHILO

"_What_?!" Graverobber cries, leaping up off the couch. "How?!"

Tattoo swallows hard. "We were trying to climb over the chain-link fence around the main GeneCo building. Eris thought maybe we could swipe some files on Shilo and herself, since she knows the place. I helped her get over the fence first, and then out of nowhere..." She gulps in a ragged breath of air, "She landed on the ground on the other side just fine. And then this Repo Man in a big suit and everything came running out of the shadows and grabbed her... I saw it happen... I saw him push her to the ground and tear open her clothes and... and he just... he made this big cut down the middle of her back and just _yanked_ her spine out like it was no big deal."

"Oh, _fuck_..." Graverobber swears beside me.

"She wasn't even unconscious. She was screaming. And she was _right there_ and I couldn't help her. There was so much blood. All I could do was run... I could hear her dying screams behind me... She was crying for me to help her and I couldn't. There were all of these other men coming, running towards us. I had to get out of there."

"You did what was necessary to survive," Graverobber reassures her.

"The _sound_ it made when he pulled out her spine..." Tattoo shudders, "It was this sickening, sucking, cracking noise..."

I'm trying as hard as I can to stop crying, but the tears continue to fall. Eris was out there, risking her life, trying to help _me_. She died because of _me_. "It's all my fault..." I moan, letting loose a loud sob.

"Don't say that!" Tattoo kneels beside me. I can tell Graverobber wants to be comforting to both of us, but he doesn't know how to.

I stare up at them, wiping tears from my face. "But it's true. She died out there trying to help me. She broke her contract trying to help me. The Repo Man never would've been after her if she didn't help me."

"Shilo," Graverobber cuts in, his voice stern, "If Eris hadn't helped you, then _you_ would be the dead one instead."

"So? What if I die anyways? Then everything she did... everything all of you are doing for me... It'll all be for nothing."

"Shilo - "

"Please... I need to be alone for a while." I push myself to my feet and dash back to the room Eris and I had been sharing. I crash down upon the half-inflated air mattress and stare up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that's happening. Eris is dead. Eris is _dead_. Because of _me_. What if Graverobber and Tattoo are killed because of me, too? I can't let that happen. I never wanted anyone to die for me. I'm just one stupid girl.

I sulk in my room for the rest of the day, unable to face Tattoo and Graverobber. Before I know it, one day turns into several more, and then it's six days until I turn eighteen.

It's nighttime, or at least I think it is. Hard to tell with no windows here, I have to go off a relative sense of time. Graverobber is sitting on the couch fiddling with his pistol, and the clicking sounds of metal break the heavy silence hanging in the room. Tattoo is in her own room, resting or perhaps reading, I don't know. I'm sitting at the shabby kitchen table, reading an old book by the dim light of the lanterns. It's some story about pirates. I'd asked Tattoo if she had any books I could borrow and she'd handed me this one. It's not half-bad; it's good enough to kill some of the dread and boredom that accompanies the endless hours inside this house.

The clicking sounds of Graverobber's gun halt for a moment. I look up to see he is holding the gun, re-assembled for the hundredth time, and staring at me. "Shilo," he says suddenly, "You're awfully quiet."

"There's nothing to say," I tell him plainly, still gripping the book in my hands. "There's nothing to talk about anymore. Nothing to plan. None of us but Tattoo can even go outside, and that's only briefly. What do you want me to say?"

"Well... how's that book you're reading?" He puts on an awkward smile. I can tell he's trying to be nice, trying to pull me out of my despair, but it's hard for me to go along with it.

"It's fine," I reply flatly, burying my nose in it again. Graverobber sighs heavily and refocuses his attention on his gun, emptying the bullets and putting them back in as quickly as he can, then repeating the process again.

My eyes fly open, and the remnants of whatever I'd been dreaming fade away quickly. My nostrils flare. _What's that smell?_ I blink my tired eyes and pull myself up off the air mattress, casting the blankets aside. I don't see anything in the room that seems to be the source of my sudden awakening.

I stumble out into the kitchen-living room area, rubbing my eyes. The strange smell is stronger out here. My eyes and throat suddenly feel dry, and it's hard to breathe. "Graverobber? Tattoo?" I call out. It smells like burnt food or something.

"Huh? What?" Graverobber's sleeping form under the blanket shifts on the couch and he sits up, reaching for his gun. "Kid? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"I smelled something..." I mumble.

He sniffs the air, pushing back the blanket on top of him. I vaguely wonder how uncomfortable it must be for him to sleep in his trench coat and other clothes every night. At least Tattoo has given me a nightdress to wear.

"Do you smell that?" I ask, yawning. "What is that?"

Suddenly, his eyes grow wide, and he leaps from the couch over to his boots, starting to lace them on. "Get dressed!" he tells me urgently. "Tattoo! Wake up!" He goes dashing off into her room to rouse her.

Not questioning the look of panic on his face, I rush back into the guest room and change into my black dress and a pair of tights I'd borrowed from Tattoo. I pull on my own boots as quickly as I can before running back out to the living room. It looks hazy, but it's hard to see with none of the candles lit. Tattoo is up and dressed in her hoodie and shorts like always, and she's lighting one of the lanterns as I come out.

"_Shit!_" Graverobber sputters with a cough. I realize now what the burning smell was - _smoke_. And where there's smoke, there's fire. My first thought is that a candle got knocked over, but none of them are even lit.

"What'd going on?" I ask, terror evident in my voice. I rush towards them, looking around frantically.

My question is quickly answered, there is a loud, thunderous pounding on the hatch above us. I let out a cry, but Graverobber covers my mouth with his handle to stifle the sound. "Shilo Wallace!" A raspy voice recognizable as Amber's shrieks down to us. "We know you're inside! Come out quietly! You have nowhere to run this time! You belong to _me!_"

"No... no... how did they find us?! I must have been followed the other day... we have to get out of here."

"You can't run!" The second voice is clearly Pavi's. "All those little pink organs belong to GeneCo! You are property of GeneCo! That face is _mine!_"

I shudder. "Is there any back way out of here?" I ask Tattoo, backing away from the entrance. The smoke is getting thicker. If we don't get out of here, we're all going to either suffocate or burn to death.

"I'm afraid not," she replies despairingly. "I've lived here for years and my whereabouts remained unknown to everyone but Graverobber. I never thought anyone would find me. I saw no need for an escape route."

My knees buckle, and I have to grab Graverobber's arm to keep myself from falling. "We're... we're going to die..."

"No, we're not." Graverobber holds up his pistol, aiming it towards the hatch. He squints through the smoke and coughs into his jacket collar. Tattoo goes hurrying back into her room. I cover my mouth with my sleeve, trying to filter some of the smoke out of every breath. The air feels hot and thick around us. I can only imagine how the fire outside the door must look.

"Come out now, and you might not get burnt to a crisp!" Amber shouts, followed by menacing laughter.

"Shut _up_ you spoiled little _twat_!" Tattoo comes charging back out of her room with a shriek. I flinch away from her, caught off guard. Her British accent makes her scream sound all the more threatening. On top of the fact that she's hoisting up an impressive-looking shotgun, aiming for the door.

"Stand back." She commands us. Graverobber and I both take a huge step backwards as she takes aim for the door. "Shoot and run, I'm afraid. Such a shame, all this violence." She unlocks the safety and steadies her aim. "One... two... _three_!" She pulls the trigger, and an ear-splitting _BOOM_ sounds off as the gun shoots a huge hole right through the hatch. I hear a bloodcurdling scream, and cries of pain.

And then I find myself being dragged along in tow by Graverobber, charging out the door. The fire surrounding the hatch has only one narrow opening, and he leaps it, yanking me up after him. Both he and Tattoo are shooting at anyone that comes near us. I'm faintly aware of the pained cries and blood splattering around us, but my mind is focused on the heat, the fire, getting out of here alive. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, I swear my skin is burning, I'm going to die, I'm going to burn to death right here, we're not going to make it...

And then we're clear of the flames. Graverobber is still pulling me along as fast as he can, turning back to shoot any pursuers. Tattoo is close behind, and I keep hearing her cock the shotgun before every loud _BOOM_!

"Run!" Tattoo yells, and I push my feet to work as hard as they can, following Graverobber. We're still being chased, I can still hear the loud footsteps and angry shouts behind us. How many people had Amber brought with her, besides her brothers? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? we were greatly outnumbered, and I had no idea where we were going. I could hear shots ringing out behind us - they had firepower, too. With every _bang!_, I thought for sure, this is it, that's the bullet that's going to rip me to shreds...

"Run for the tracks!" Tattoo tells us. "I'll hold them off, just a few minutes. Keep running!" She digs her heels into the dirt and whips around, cocking the shotgun again and letting loose another blast. "Take this, more ammo!" She pulls a handgun out of her bulging hoodie pocket, tossing it to Graverobber. He nods to her, and takes off again, not letting go of me.

"What did she mean by tracks?" I ask him, though I have to raise my voice over the noise to be heard.

"You'll see!" he tells me. We duck through a pitch-black alley, and it's a miracle I manage not to stumble over anything. I have no idea where we are, and without Graverobber I'd be lost forever. Fortunately, he seems to know exactly where he's going. We slip out the opposite end of the alley and down a dark road with flickering streetlights above us. The chaotic racket behind us seems to be growing more distant, but my heart is still pounding hard in my chest.

He drags me down two more blocks, then makes a sharp right off the road and down a hill overgrown with weeds and thorns. There's a loud ripping sound as my tights are torn open on the side, but I don't really care about that right now. At least I have good boots. We trudge through, not letting the thorns slow us down. Graverobber keeps glancing over his shoulder behind us, to make sure we're not being followed.

"Here, crawl through there." We come to a halt at the bottom of the hill, right in front of what appears to be a large concrete drainage pipe. "It goes right through the hill," he tells me when I throw him a questioning look. "Just go straight, don't take the tunnel to the left or you'll come out by the river. Now go on, go, kid!" He gives me a little shove in the back, and I drop down the enter the tunnel, crawling on my hands and knees through the chill darkness. My only guide is a pinprick of light at the other end of the tunnel, which feels as if it might as well be miles away. If the thorns hadn't shred my tights enough, the concrete on my knees was ripping them for sure. I can feel a slight stinging sensation, telling me my knees are getting cut up by the rough concrete. But I press on, crawling as fast as I can. I can hear Graverobber behind me, urging me on.

I pass the tunnel to the left. The light is closer now, I can make out the circle opening ahead. Soon, I am gripping the edge, easing myself out of the tunnel and onto the opposite hillside. Graverobber emerges behind me, dusting off his jacket. He's still holding his own pistol, prepared to raise it and shoot at any moment if needed.

"This way," he says, going up the hill in front of us. I climb up after him, and at the top, we finally stop.

"This is it. Lay low, kid." Graverobber crouches down and I do the same, looking around. We're right beside a set of rusty-looking railroad tracks.

"Where's Tattoo?" I ask in the quietest whisper I can manage.

"She's coming, just wait," he says with confidence.

Every second feels like an hour, hunched over there in the thorns, waiting. Seconds turn into minutes. My feet are falling asleep. My knees are bleeding. Where is she? Did she escape? Or had she met a fate similar to Eris'? No, no, she made it out of there, she's coming. She has to be coming.

"There!" Graverobber hisses, pointing. Instead of emerging from the tunnel we went through, Tattoo is making a bounding toward us from the other side of the tacks. She reaches us and doubles over, panting.

"Are you hurt?" I ask instantly.

"I... had to circle around... but... I lost them... and... I'm... fine." She's breathing heavily, trying to control each inhale and exhale. "Time to... hitch a... ride."

"What?"

And then, there's a horrible, loud, mechanical grinding sound, following by a repetitive _ding ding ding ding_ noise. And now, I understand. The train is coming. We're going to get away. On a _train_.

"Shilo," Graverobber says to me, leveling his gaze with mine to catch my attention, "When the train comes, I'm going to jump up, and I need you to not let go of my hand, _no matter what_. I'll help you up."

"Okay." I nod. All three of us stand upright, watching the oncoming train. It's a huge rickety rustbucket, consisting of an endless amount of supply cars, moving along with such speed I have no idea how we're going to catch it.

Graverobber steps closer to the tracks, bracing himself and grabbing my hand with an iron grip. Tattoo steps forward, also, waiting.

"Been a while since I had to jump a train," Graverobber mutters, sounding eager.

And then, it is upon us. The whistle blows, blocking out all other sound. It chugs and squeaks and screeches along at top volume, sounding like a tornado. Graverobber bends his knees and starts to run alongside it, and so does Tattoo. I try my best to keep up, so he's not dragging me as much. And, without warning, Graverobber propels himself upwards with extreme force towards an open car and grabs the edge of the train, hoisting himself up with his free arm.

"Keep running!" he shouts to me, and his voice might as well be a whisper against the train's commotion. My legs feel like they're going to fall off if I run any faster, but what choice do I have? "On three, I need you to _jump_ towards me!"

I nod, watching as Tattoo leaps into the same car.

"One!"

What if I can't jump that far? What if I fall and get left behind?

"Two!"

My palm is sweaty, my fingers are slipping...

"Three!"

My knees bend, my feet push off, and I jump with all my might. Graverobber pulls me towards him, and I go tumbling through the open door, landing with a thud on the splintery wood floor inside. Tattoo pulls me up right away, and Graverobber slumps against the wall, massaging the hand he'd been using to pull me up.

"We... we made it!" I can't help it - a squeal of joy slips from my mouth. Tattoo cracks a smile, and I move over towards the open door. The world outside is flying by, leaving Amber, Pavi, Luigi, and everyone else behind.

"I'm sorry they burned your house, Tattoo," I apologize.

"Eh, don't fret about it. It was time for me to move, anyways."

I stare out at the night sky. There's still hours to go before dawn. Stars flicker faintly, fighting against the smog to be seen. Tall, winding skyscrapers reach upwards, outlined by the yellow glow of the city. A blimp eases over the buildings, sporting the faces of the Largo siblings. We pass towering billboards, boasting messages like _DON'T FORGET TO BUY THE LATEST OPTIC PRODUCTS! HALF-PRICE CARTILIDGE ADJUSTMENTS WITH EVERY PURCHASE! NEW AND IMPROVED SPINES NOW AVAILABLE!_ But soon, the train takes us far away from the huge city, away from the only place I've ever known in my life, and down along the gray countryside.

When the crippling exhaustion finally takes over, and not even the bumpy railroad and keep me awake any longer, I curl up on the floor, using Graverobber's leg as a pillow, and sink into a well-earned and deep slumber.

GRAVEROBBER

"She's asleep already," I whisper, staring down at Shilo. I was planning on sleeping on the floor and using my jacket as a pillow, but now I can't bring myself to move. Tattoo laughs tiredly at me, hardly awake herself.

I gaze out the door, watching the world slip away. There's some wind getting in through the opening, but it feels nice for a change. My skin still feels hot, and I'm pretty sure I got a few serious burns from running through that fire. We all still smell heavily of smoke, and the fresh air is welcome on my dry lungs.

When Shilo had shown up just over a week ago, I never would have guessed I'd end up running through fire and jumping on trains. Not that I'm complaining, the adventure of it all gives me a great rush of adrenaline I haven't felt in a while. I feel bad about Eris dying, but there was nothing that could've been done. She was just trying to help. All I can do is hope that the rest of us survive this, whatever it is.

Now that we're getting away from the city, will all of us be safe? Will Shilo be free from the crazy fucking GeneCo princess? Will people stop trying to kill me for once? And what about Tattoo? I look over at her, trying to stay awake. Her head keeps falling down, and she snaps back to attention for a few minutes, fighting off sleep. Will she be okay? I wonder if she's really hurt or not. Both her and Shilo have tattered tights, smoke-stained clothing, and ratty hair. I can only imagine what hell I must look like.

With a heavy sigh, I lean my head back against the metal wall of the railway car. It's shaking so much that it feels like my brain's rattling around, but I'm too tired to care. I let my eyes close, listening to the mechanical lullaby of the train _chug-chugging the miles away. _Where are we going? How far? Who knows. I wonder if Tattoo has a plan? I hope we'll get off somewhere nice...


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all my readers sticking with me this far. I hope you all like Tattoo. Reviews always greatly appreciated. Enjoy! :)**

***Note: I made a continuation error with Shilo's tights. She used them to bandage Graverobber's wound before, but then I had her still wearing them. I'm going to go back and edit it so that she borrowed a pair from Tattoo. So sorry to any of you who may have noticed this! **

I am sharply awakened by the abrupt, piercing sound of the train whistle. Shilo lifts her head from my leg, which instantly goes pins-and-needles as soon as her weight is removed. I wince and pull my leg up, rubbing the blood back into my calf. Tattoo, laying on the ground across from us and using her hoodie as a pillow, sits up and covers her ears, grumbling. Without her hoodie on, her shirt leaves all the ink on her arms exposed. There's a few new designs she's gotten since I saw her last that I've never seen before.

"I think we're slowing down," Shilo observes, pointing out the door. Sure enough, the scene outside is passing much slower than before.

"That's our cue to exit," Tattoo says, shivering as a gust blows in around us. She pulls her hoodie back on over her shirt and yawns.

I let out a huge yawn of my own and stretch my cramped muscles, popping my neck and back. Instinctively, I check to make sure I have my pistol, and feel the bulge of the gun Tattoo gave me, also. "Did you want this back?" I ask her, withdrawing it from the depths of my trenchcoat.

She shakes her head, "No, I think you'll need it more than I will." At this response, I slide it back into my pocket.

We are definitely slowing down. The racket of the train is now continuously pierced by the screeching of the brakes. I stand up and straighten my clothing, pushing hair out of my eyes. "Do we have to jump off while it's moving?" Shilo asks, appearing extremely nervous. She's peering out at the ground below, which slopes off to a rough-looking hill with an unfamiliar city beyond it.

"I'm afraid so, dear," Tattoo sighs, walking up to the edge. Boldly, she sits down and hangs her legs off. "If we wait to try and get off at the train station, we might get caught by someone. Now, we all need to jump together or we're going to get separated. We're slowing down, but it's still covering a good amount of distance fairly quick."

"It's not every day I have to jump out of a moving train first thing after waking up," Shilo muses. She sits on the edge beside Tattoo, but looks far less comfortable about it.

I scoot over to join them, swinging my legs over the edge and gripping the metal tightly. Jumping isn't what I'm worried about; it's falling that scares me. The wind created by the motion of the train hits me hard, pushing me back a bit. The hill below looks a bit threatening. Gonna have to be a tuck-and-roll sort of exit here. I look over at Shilo, sitting there with bare arms and legs protected by nothing but her ruined rights.

"Here!" I shrug off my trenchcoat, handing it to her. "Put this on! It'll protect you!"

"What about you?" she asks, taking it from me with hesitance.

"Don't worry about me!" I shout over the wind to her. I've got long sleeves and long pants. Good enough for me.

She pulls the coat on, hugging it around her shoulders. It's several sizes too big for her, and she looks like she could curl up and disappear inside it.

"Ready?" Tattoo asks us. She's the most calm out of all three of us. Clearly, she's done this before.

"Yes!" Shilo and I reply in unison.

"Alright then! On the count of three - one... two... NOW!"

I release my grip and go flying forward. The ground zooms up in my face, and I shield myself with my arms, curling up so that when I hit, I'll roll. Shilo screams, and Tattoo is whooping and laughing as we tumble downwards. The train zooms away on the tracks behind us, and when we finally tumble to a stop in a pile at the bottom of the hill, it's already gone.

"Everyone okay?" I ask, standing up and taking a shaky step. I wince - the knife wound is throbbing something awful now. It feels like the scab tore. Thank god it wasn't a deep cut, or I'd be bleeding to death with no hope left right now.

"Just a scraped knee..." Tattoo announces, clutching a bloody knee and making a sound that's like laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm fine," Shilo replies, sitting upright and breathing hard, "But are _you_?" She sees me clutching my wound and moves towards me, concerned.

"It's fine, I think my scab just tore. The bandage is still secure, though."

"Well... alright." She sighs, hands me my coat, and stands up, shading her eyes from the sun on the horizon. "Where... are we?"

Tattoo points to the city ahead of us. "Let's find out," she says determinedly, beginning to walk. And so we trudge on, leaving the train tracks behind us, curious to see where it is we've ended up now.

We reach the city in under half an hour. Already, I can tell it's not in good condition. The city back home was filthy and dangerous, but at least it was all in one piece. We stop in the shadow of a towering billboard, which reads: WELCOME TO and the other half of the sign is gone, splintered boards protruding this way and that.

Not letting this discourage us, we pass the sign and enter the city limits. There's a sort of stench in the air, like a mixture of blood, oil, and waste. I crinkle my nose. I can handle the smell of rotting bodies piled on top of each other in the makeshift graveyards, and I can't handle _this_, if that's any indication to how awful the air is here. Shilo and Tattoo both gag, plugging their noses.

We're just about to round a corner when we hear a resonating yell, followed by a woman's voice screaming "No! N-no, p-please, no, take someone else, please, oh god fuck, help! S-someone help!" There's a gunshot and a horrible cry of pain. Shilo and Tattoo both freeze in terror and we halt, pressing up against the brick building we'd been walking along. I put a finger to my mouth telling them to be quiet and inch forward, pulling my pistol out.

I peer around the building cautiously, trying to see what's going on without attracting any attention and getting my face blown off. Across the street, there is a man in a business suit standing over a woman on the ground, trying to scramble away on her hands and knees. The man in the suit is holding a gun, and I can see a large, gruesome gunshot wound on the woman's leg.

"Stop! Please!" The wounded woman begs, and I can see the horror on her face.

"Oh, shut up." The man with the gun raises it again and shoots her other leg, and I hear a loud _crack_ as it shatters the bone. The woman lets loose a wail and covers her head like he's trying to shield herself.

Then I see the other man slide the gun into a pocket inside his suit and withdraw a curved knife, already clearly covered in bloodstains. He kneels down and cuts the woman's shirt open, completely indifferent to her weak punches. She cries out for help again, but I don't dare step forward. I don't know if that guy has accomplices hiding somewhere, ready to shoot anyone who intrudes. All I can do is watch on in horror.

With her bare torso exposed, he makes a long, horizontal cut across her chest, and then a longer, vertical cut all the way down her front. She claws at him, hits him, trying to fight him off, but I can see she has no strength left in her. I pity her, still being conscious. Blood spurts up from the cuts and splatters onto the man's suit. He stares down at the red stains and then glares at her.

"_You bitch!_" He snarls, "This is my good suit!" he slaps her across the face like it's her fault, and she goes silent. I wince and hope, for her sake, that she's finally unconscious. My finger twitches on the trigger of the pistol, itching to plant a bullet in the back of his head. But it's too late now, and we all need to save our bullets for self-defense.

He grabs the skin along the center of the cut and yanks it open. More blood splatters onto the sidewalk with a wet sound. He moves to straddle her, and then rolls up his sleeves. Not angered, not smiling, his face is an expression of pure indifference. Like he's reading a boring book for the second time and just wants to get it over with.

Her innards uncovered, he dips his hands into her gut. She convulses violently, but does not show any signs of awareness. He shifts around for a moment, and the wet squishing sounds reach my ears. It's hard for me not to gag at the sight. Finally, he yanks out her liver with a suction-like noise, and pulls off the long, sticky strands of blood and bodily fluids that trail it. He holds the liver up in front of him like a trophy and examines it carefully.

"Good. Healthy. Thought so." He then _pockets _the organ and wipes his blood-soaked hands on her clothing before getting to his feet. "We're done here," he says, and then three other men in business suits emerge from the shadows, all carrying guns. Thank god I hadn't run out there or I would've had my brains spread out on the pavement. They walk away, not even looking back.

"Shit, shit, shit," I breathe, leaning back against the wall and trying not to vomit.

"Graverobber..." Shilo's voice is trembling, "What... just happened?"

"I just witnessed... someone kill a woman and steal her liver."

"No!" Shilo cries, "A Repo Man!"

I shake my head slowly. 'No. He was just wearing a regular suit. And he didn't check for a bar code on the organ."

There's several gunshots in the distance, and all three of us cringe. What kind of city have we come to?

We creep along the streets, Tattoo and I both prepared to reach for our guns if we must. Her shotgun is slung over her shoulder with a strap, and I have a handgun in both the left and right pockets of my trenchcoat. I'm a little worried about Shilo not being armed, but I don't exactly plan on letting her out of my sight.

Ahead of us is a large building that looks like it's a crucial part of the city. There's a sign in front of it with faded, peeling paint which seems to read _Mayor's Office_. I almost consider suggesting that we seek assistance or refuge there, but I fear it would do us no good.

Further along, the smell of smoke grows stronger in the air. I can see a large pillar of black smoke in the sky, and upon rounding the street corner, we see it's coming front a fairly tall building. There's a huge logo at the top, in crooked lettering. _GeneCo_. Shilo sees this at the same time I do, and gasps, grabbing a fistful of my coat and pressing closer to Tattoo and I.

"Oh no..." she whimpers, "Do you think they'll know who I am? What if they're looking for me here, too?"

I stare up at the smoke, at the bright flames consuming the building. "It looks to me like we're not GeneCo's biggest priority right now."

"O-okay..." She breathes a heavy sigh and continues to stare up at the logo while we walk down the street, watching as it's devoured by flames.

"Why are there no fire trucks heading for it?" Tattoo asks. "Actually... why are there no cars _anywhere_? We've been walking down the middle of the road this whole time, and not a single car has passed us."

I stop, looking up and down the empty street. She's right. Not a vehicle in sight. "What kind of city has no traffic?"

There's another distant gunshot. Shilo's grip tightens on my jacket, and I can feel her trembling now. Both Tattoo and I instinctively put a hand to our weapons, ready to withdraw them if needed.

"Let's check that building out," Tattoo says boldly, though she is still holding her shotgun anxiously. Following her lead, we pick our way down the road, careful not to step in puddles of blood and grime caked onto the cracked asphalt.

We're nearly there, and I can feel the heat coming off of the burning building. There's a huge crowd gathered at the foot of it, reaching with outstretched fingers to grab flecks of ash drifting down upon them, dancing in the orange embers. The majority of them are laughing, clapping their hands enthusiastically above their heads. Cheering. A few people run past us on the street to join the crowd.

"Excuse me?" I clear my throat to speak, approaching the nearest person on the crowd. Tattoo stands at my hip, shotgun slung over her shoulder, and Shilo is standing half-hidden behind me, wearing her bravest face. I feel really bad for the kid.

"Yeah?" The woman, beaming, turns to face me. "Can I help you?"

"What's going on here? And where are all the cars?" I ask, hoping she doesn't somehow find my lack of knowledge to be insulting to the situation.

"Oh, we don't drive cars in this city anymore. The gas can be used for much more useful purposes. As for this," She gestures towards the flames overhead, eating away the building, "They've finally set the damned place on fire!" She cries, pointing up as the last remnants of the GeneCo sign melted away. "Ever since the company stopped supplying our city, we've all been petitioning for a removal. Don't want a landmark to such a wretched business!"

"So, wait, GeneCo isn't here?" I ask, relieved.

She nods. "Madame Mayor stopped paying for the company's service here because it was too expensive, and eventually it was outlawed. Bless our souls to be rid of such corruption."

"But..." I say as she begins to turn away, "I'm sorry, but the very first thing I saw when I came here was a man..." I take a pause, "Killing a woman and stealing her liver. How's that better than GeneCo?" I'm extremely confused, and I can tell that both of my companions are, too.

She frowned, creasing her pleasant expression into one of disgust. "Well, there are some who... who still undergo illegal surgeries. And they'll get what they want... anyway they can. Oh goodness, speak of the devil! Her eyes suddenly grew very wide with fright, looking past me.

"What?" The three of us turned around, afraid of what we might see.

A group of people are strutting down the street towards the crowd, and a sense of threat clings to them. The group consists of about ten people, both male and female and a few that aren't really identifiable. The lot of them are dressed like run-of-the-mill Zydrate addicts, and my first thought is _how much could I sell them if I had my stash with me?_

The cheering crowd all spots them and goes quiet, fearful. A few people sneak off, murmuring amongst themselves. Tattoo, Shilo, and myself are closest to them on the street. I push Shilo behind me defensively, and both Tattoo and I grip our guns in hand at our sides. They remain down for now, however, until we know if this group is truly a threat to us. Must not waist bullets.

"Who're you?" The man at the head of the group asks sharply, stopping only a few feet in front of us and glaring right at me.

"We're new to town. Temporarily... visiting," I reply simply, keeping my gaze steady. This little punk thinks he can scare me? He's not even armed. I've been stabbed and shot at more times than I can count in my work. Some twenty-something brat isn't going to faze me.

A girl dressed in less clothes than Amber Sweet pushes her way to the head of the group and stares right at me, although with how short she is, she has to tilt her head back a little to make eye contact with me. "How long you gon' be here? This town isn't the best place for strangers."

I clear my throat and narrow my eyes, holding back every sarcastic remark ready to jump from my lips. "We have..." I look back at Shilo, "Five days, at least. We don't really have anywhere to go, nowhere to be. Just... places to be away from. Certain people."

The girl laughs, and it almost surprises me that a cloud of makeup _doesn't_ come off her prostitute-decorated face. "You're running from GeneCo! Am I right? I'm right."

The first guy grabs her sides and moves her away, getting between her and me. "_Are_ you?" he asks.

I shrug, and finally, nod. No use lying. A town that hates GeneCo this much isn't going to drag us in to Amber. "Yes. Well, mostly her." I usher Shilo forward, although she is hesitant to release her frightened grip on my coat. She steps up from behind me cautiously, and she looks like she's on high-defense mode. She may be scared easily, but the kid could kick ass if she really needed to.

"You need somewhere to stay?" the guy in front asks her. She looks like she's ready to either punch him or run away. Maybe both. But she stands her ground, and simply nods.

"Well, I'd suggest you come with us then. Or, ya know, stay out on the streets."

"We're fine on our own, thanks," Tattoo cuts in, hand tight on her shotgun. She looks like she's itching to shoot someone, if anyone gives her a reason to. I can tell this whole place is making her incredibly uncomfortable.

The guy smirks, and the rest of the group chuckles behind him. "Fine," he says, cracking an amused smile. "Stay out on the streets." He starts to walk away, and the group follows him. "I'm sure your blood will keep you warm when some lunatic rips out your small intestine."

I shudder, and we watch them walk a short ways down the street. The previously celebrating crowd behind us starts talking again. The smell of ash and smoke is so strong it's making my eyes burn. Finally, Shilo steps forward, and breaks out into a run.

"Wait! Take us with you! Don't leave us here! I don't... I don't want to die." She stumbles and nearly falls forward a few steps from reaching the tail end of the odd group.

Their leader turns around, and his smile is friendlier than one might expect. "Alright," He says, "Better keep up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8! Yay! I really love all of your reviews, they keep me writing :) I'm always so worried that I'm not capturing the characters correctly and whatnot, but you all seem to like it! I know I write from Graverobber's view a lot, I don't write Shilo much because I feel like from her view she comes off as wimpier than she really is. Plus I just love the sass from Graverobber... If you really want more Shilo, just let me know in the reviews. **

**I apologize if this chapter took me forever, it's hard to keep up with multiple active fics around school x( But thank you for staying with me this far. Enjoy!**

GRAVEROBBER

I ask the guy leading the group and the tiny scantily-dressed girl what their names are. The girl throws her head back and lets out a fresh high-pitched laugh, and neither of them replies. Tattoo seems troubled by it, but I simply shrug it off. In such an odd, dangerous, sort of society, it didn't surprise me that this outcast group didn't want to give us their formal identities. I began to think of them based off of their appearances. The leader-guy had an electric-blue head of spikes, and he is wearing a black trenchcoat over blacker clothes - I dub him Trenchcoat. Good enough. The girl, on the other hand, I assign the name Pigtails, because she's got these big blond porn star-style pigtails on the sides of her head. I figure it's better to call her that instead of "She Who Dresses Like A Hooker".

The band of misfits walks us through town at a leisurely, unafraid pace. Every regular citizen we pass glares at them with mixed expressions of disgust and fear. Shilo clings to my coat, and I notice she keeps bumping the weight of one of the pistols in my pocket. Intentional or not, it seems to give her comfort.

Tattoo, on the other hand, seems wary and alert as ever. Her hand keeps sliding up to rest on her shotgun, and I know she could lift it off her back and pull the trigger in mere seconds if she had to right now. I can tell she doesn't trust this group of strangers, but she trusts _me_, and for that reason she follows us along. She wants to get out of here, and honestly, so do I. We can only hope that wherever Trenchcoat and Pigtails are taking us will be a secure, safe location.

We pass the faded building with the _Mayor's Office._ I wonder how the town's precious Madame Mayor can possibly run the place in such conditions. Then again, the building is in considerably better shape than the other ones surrounding it.

After weaving through the stench-ridden town for a while, the group suddenly ducks through an alley and pops out on the opposite street. They lead us up to what looks like an hotel building - or, at least, what used to be an hotel building. The group disperses once we pass through the doors, leaving us with just Trenchcoat guy and Pigtails girl.

"You said you need refuge for five days?" The guy asks, turning to me for clarification, then to Shilo. She nods slowly in agreement.

"We have one spare room the three of you can share for that time. Believe me, we're your safest option in this city. All of those phony-faced people will stop at nothing to rid their precious utopia of... vermin."

"Vermin!" Tattoo cries, outrages. "But we didn't do anything wrong!"

"You forgot the part where he called this dump a utopia," I grumbled.

"Madame Mayor thinks she's ridding the city of corruption. That's why we don't have GeneCo anymore. Of course, the bitch is too blind to see that things like that only lead to underground deals." Pigtails scoffs and puts her hands on her hips, elbows jutting outward.

"Does she not see the corpses on the streets?" Shilo whimpers. She's not clinging to me anymore. Instead, she stands right at my side, between Tattoo and I.

Pigtails and Trenchcoat both shook their heads. "She calls it karma. Cleansing. She believes everyone who is killed must deserve it."

I frowned. "What kind of sick, twisted kind of government is this woman running?"

"Looks like we ran from one dangerous place right into another," Tattoo smirks. "At least nobody is deliberately hunting us down here, though."

"You can be sure Madame Mayor already knows you're here," Trenchcoat tells us. "You were seen by multiple citizens. I can guarantee that your arrival has been reported."

"Is that... something we should be concerned about?" Tattoo asks warily.

"Who knows. But I wouldn't suggest staying any longer than you need to."

"Duly noted," I mutter. "Anyways, where is this room you mentioned? We didn't exactly get a decent night's sleep. I could use a real mattress right now. I feel like I jumped off a train - oh, wait, I did."

Pigtails curls the corners of her mouth in a Cheshire grin. "Train hopping, huh? Impressive. That explains how you got here. But, anyways, right this way," she purrs, bowing mockingly to us. She guides us through the building, stopping in front of a door on the second floor.

"This is it?" I ask as she swings open the creaky door for us, gesturing for our group to enter. We trickle in one by one into the shadows within. It is dusty inside, and only illuminated by a dim lightbulb. I'm actually a little surprised when there _isn't_ a cobweb blocking the doorway.

"Looks a little... run down," Tattoo remarks, flicking on another light switch, which is just as dim.

Pigtails girl shrugs. "It's the best we have to offer. Unless you'd prefer the streets."

"No, no, perfectly fine here, really," I cut in, pushing past them to examine the rest of the shabby hotel room. There are two beds situated in the center of the room, and a small kitchenette, and a bathroom with a shower that may or may not work, we'll see. My bulky boots thud on the floor, which creak with almost every step I take. "We're not going to... take a trip down to the first floor if we step anywhere, are we?" I ask skeptically, stepping on a particularly noisy tile in the kitchenette.

"You'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than be your hostess. Someone will be here later to... explain more to you. Make yourselves comfortable," she bids us farewell and slips away, leaving the three of us alone in the room.

"Well..." Shilo hesitantly sits on one of the beds, examining the faded yellow quilt, "It's better than being outside with people running around stealing organs..." She shudders. "I can't stand the thought of that - survive all this, escape Amber, just to have my organs stolen anyways!"

"We're not going to let that happen," Tattoo reassures her. She sets her shotgun down on the vanity table in between the beds and sits next to Shilo.

"I trust these people," I say firmly, stopping my wanderings to stand in front of them. Both of the girls tilt their heads back to look at me.

"Are you sure?" Tattoo questions, not hiding her skepticism. "I mean, I'm going where you go. I'm dedicating to helping you two - as a friend. But how can we be sure this group won't kill us in our sleep?"

"Well, for one, they trust _us_," I tell her, "They didn't confiscate our weapons. And besides, if they were going to kill us, I don't expect they would have invited us in for refuge first."

"True," Tattoo nods in agreement.

Beside her, Shilo yawns, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. "I'm... very tired," she admits.

"Ya know, me too," I confess. "Whaddya say we get some well-earned rest, hmm?" I move over to the other bed, pulling back the hideous yellow quilt to reveal the surprisingly clean sheets underneath. With great relief to my aching feet, I tug off my heavy boots and shrug off my trenchcoat. The boots, I delicately place side-by-side on the floor. The coat, I carefully drape over the bedpost. Shilo and Tattoo both get comfortable, too, and share the other bed. I climb under the quilt and pull it up over my shoulders.

At first, I can't fall asleep right away. This troubles me in itself, considering I can usually pass out within moments of my head hitting the pillow. I'm so exhausted. It's been a terribly long past few days. Less than a week ago, I'd just had a regular - well, regular to me - sort of life. And now I was dodging fire and bullets and knives and running for my life with a scared teenage girl and a rainbow-haired, heavily-inked, shotgun-toting woman. Not that I'm complaining, but it's kind of a shock to change my daily habits so quickly.

And what about Tattoo? How easily do dreams come to her, now? I wonder if she blames herself for Eris' death. I wonder if she's haunted by the image of the other woman just out of reach, the sound of her spine being ripped out of her body right before her eyes... Hell, _I'm_ still a little haunted by it, and I wasn't even there personally.

I shift on the mattress. What about Shilo? How scared she must be. How burdened she must feel. Poor kid. I wish I could help more than I am. But, if escorting the girl around and shooting anyone who attacks is all I can do, then, well, I'll do it.

I pull the covers over my face and try to focus on breathing. Finally, I am able to rest.

A soft tap on my shoulder startles me awake a few hours later. I sit up quickly, instinctively prepared for an attack, and nearly clonk heads with Tattoo. She's leaning over me, long, rainbow hair framing her face in a bright waterfall. When I open my eyes, she straightens up, cramming her hands into the pockets of her blue hoodie.

"Good morning," she chimes, although I detect a certain weariness in her tone. "That guy is here."

"Trenchcoat?" I ask, rubbing my eyes and swinging my legs out of bed.

"Um, yeah, sure. That guy. He's at the door. He wants to speak with all of us."

"Alright, I'm coming..." I slide my feet into my boots, and pull on my own trenchcoat, automatically checking to make sure each pistol is still in its own pocket. Content to find each gun in the same place I left them, I follow Tattoo to the room's entrance, where Trenchcoat and Shilo are both chatting quietly. When I approach, Trenchcoat guy cracks a grin. "Good morning, sunshine," he says in greeting.

"Um, yeah, good morning," I respond, still trying to rub the sleep from my eyes.

"Hungry?" he asks. All three of us nod. Before we can say anything, he leads us through out and away from the door, downstairs to what apparently used to be a restaurant in the hotel, but now serves as a sort of cafeteria. About twenty people are gathered at the tables, all voraciously consuming breakfast. My stomach grumbles as the aroma of pancakes drifts through the room to us.

"Have some breakfast," the guy offers, gesturing towards the self-serve section. Almost before he finishes the sentence, I'm booking it off towards the food, followed closely by Tattoo and Shilo. I pile a stack of pancakes on my plate and drown them in syrup. Once seated, I shovel a huge bite into my mouth. The sweet syrup hits my tongue like ambrosia. For a moment, I feel the gravity of our situation lift from my shoulders, and nothing matters but that sweet damn plate of food. Both of the girls seem to be enjoying the same ecstasy as I am. Through all the tragedy, it was so easy to forget about something so simple as a good breakfast. In that minute, I swore I'd never take pancakes for granted again.

I finished quickly, followed by a small belch. Tattoo wrinkled her nose at me, but only briefly, as she was too occupied with eating the waffles on her own plate. In an alarmingly short amount of time, all three of us had eaten everything we'd taken and each downed a full glass of milk.

"Not eating much lately?" Trenchcoat saunters through the little crowd over to us while we're still seated.

"Been a while since I had a good meal like this," Tattoo tells him, licking a drop of syrup from her finger.

"Glad to be of service," the guy responds. "Now, we have serious matters to discuss. We can speak here, or go somewhere more private, if you'd prefer. But I think this situation requires that I know your story - and that you know ours, for that matter."

"Here is fine," Shilo tells him, pointing towards the empty chair at our little table. He sits down graciously and poses himself like a king. Which, I suppose, if he's the leader here, is fitting.

"Shall I begin, or you?" he asks, eyeing Shilo.

She pulls her long black hair back in a nervous motion. "I can start," she says. He nods respectfully.

"Well," she begins, "you know we're - _I'm_ - running from GeneCo. Have you ever heard of the Genetic Opera?" she asks timidly.

"_The_ Genetic Opera? Oh, of course I have. Who hasn't? Blind Mag's suicide and the death of Rotti Largo were all over the news. On TV. In the papers. People talked about it forever. Some still do. What's that have to do with your situation, princess?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "Well, um, Blind Mag was my Godmother. And my father was killed there, that night, too. GeneCo held contracts over both of them. So now they technically own me, and they want to kill me and take my organs. I should be free when I turn eighteen. In... four days now. because then GeneCo won't be my guardian."

"So _that's_ why you're here, huh? Running from a contract. You're not the first, dear."

"So, what's your story?" I interrupt, seeing Shilo growing distressed discussing her predicament.

"We," he gestures over the room of people, "are the town militia. Well, self-appointed militia."

"What kind of people would take up a kind of job like that?" I ask.

"The kind who care," he responds coolly, leveling his gaze with mine. "This town has no official law enforcement. Not anymore, at least. Madame Mayor abolished the police department ages ago. We stepped in. People hate us, because we're different. But we keep the scraps of this city together. With GeneCo gone, the black market organ trade grew pretty fast. And nobody was taking care of it. Everyone says Madame Mayor is doing a perfectly good job taking care of things. They turn a blind eye to what they don't want to see. We don't."

"What do you do that makes you worthy of calling yourself a militia?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "We've killed or arrested more black market traders than I can even remember. Everyone thinks we're the ones in on the trade. They think we're all modified. But it's not us. We're the ones taking care of it."

"Impressive," Tattoo comments.

"In neglect of modesty, I must agree with you. We work hard. And that's the catch of you staying here."

"Catch?" I raise an eyebrow in question, suddenly uneasy.

"If you want us to take you in for these next few days, then you have to make yourselves useful. You can help in the kitchens here, or help out there - catching illegal traders."

"Kitchen!" Shilo blurts, her face going even paler than usual. "I'll, I mean, I'll help in the kitchen."

"Very well. And you?" He glances and me and Tattoo.

"I can do field work," I say boldly.

"Me too," Tattoo announces. "If you give me ammo for this thing," she pats her shotgun affectionately, "I can make good use of it."

"Deal." Trenchcoat shakes hands with all of us, and stands. "You may return to your room upstairs now. You will be contacted when your services are needed."

And with that, he turns briskly away, his trenchcoat swaying behind him and nearly trailing the ground as he walks out of the room.


End file.
